So Tired of Being Alone
by Miss Chips
Summary: "Two hundred years ago, Briar, the ancient realm was abolished. I thought it had died. Was sure of it. But now I know that it is not, and it took losing Tris to find that out." A deadly quest, human sacrifice, and repressed love inside. S/B romance.
1. Flirtations and a Marketplace: Tris

**So Tired of Being Alone**

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_Disclaimer: John Mayer's sexy. . . oh, yeah, disclaimer. Er, don't own anything. Tammy does. Not making money, so you can't sue me! NANANA!_****

**AUTHOR NOTES (READ BECUASE THEY'RE DAD-GUM IMPORTANT!_)_**_-- This story was a crazy diddy that I wrote on a wim. It's gonna be short, and my other story will be finished, but this was just for fun. Anyways, the POV switches constantly on this story. . . so be prepared. Also, big thing, I haven't read COLD FIRE yet. I don't know what the lovely Daja is doing, so I'm sorry. It's just, our stupid library doesn't have the book (huh, they don't have ANY book for that matter) and it's like a cool $16 at the bookstores, and frankly, I'm broke. So anywho. . . Also, this story take place between Briar's CO book and Daja's book. So, lets say, Briar, Sandry, and Tris had a small reuinion at Emelan before heading back off. Anyways, please enjoy._   


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**Tris' POV:**

I watched from my window as people passed our apartment in an frantic hoard, pushing and shoving each other into walls, other people. I snorted in disgust. People are so barbaric. 

Shifting from one foot to another, I bit my lip and glanced up at the sky. It was a peerless blue, no clouds anywhere to be seen. Sighing, I fiddled with my hands, impatient. Not even clouds to amuse me. 

When Sandry had come to me and asked me, in her typical manner, if I would go with her to Nidra Island for "business", she was so annoyingly persistent about it, that I finally gave in. 

I think it was about two weeks that she had approached me while I was deeply absorbed in a detailed book, starting off talking casually, but somehow, she evolved the conversation. She started talking about how she had to go off to Nidra Island to do some work for her Uncle. Something political of the sort. Something terribly boring. 

That's when she went in for the catch. "Anyways, Tris, I will be the only one there. I'll be all alone. . ." She stared at me longingly, her annoyingly pretty blue eyes glittering with excitement. 

I simply stared back at her, managing to tear my eyes from my novel. Lifting an eyebrow, I commented, "Yes, you will be," I looked back down at my book, "That's too bad. Sorry." 

She turned towards me further, before blurting out, in one long breath, "And Ill be so terribly bored without someone to go with me, and Tris, oh would you please, please, PLEASE go with me? Please, please, please?!" She had gotten so close to me that her face was so near mine I was afraid that, if I snapped my head up too fast, we might just knock heads. 

Of course, I wasn't as overly excited about the little endeavor as Sandry was. In fact, excited wouldn't even be a word that should be used for description. It was more like. . . being stuck between a rock and a hard place. 

Looking up at her, I saw her ecstatic face, and sighed. "Couldn't you get Daja to go with you?" 

Sandry shook her head, making a piece of hair from her tight braid fall in front of her face. "Daja's not going to be back in Emelan for nearly a month. Her and Frostpine have that important business in the Namorn Empire and that's nearly half across the Pebbled Sea from Nidra Island. Tris. . .?" She glanced at me expectantly, her eyes piercing my forehead. 

Frowning, I shook my head. "What about Briar? He's here, just off to get some stuff with Rosethorn. Why don't you ask him?" I sat lower in my seat, and pushed my glasses farther up my nose before staring deeply in my book. "He usually likes to go wherever you go anyways," I muttered quietly, half-hoping that she would hear me. 

She didn't. In fact, she listed about forty reasons why Briar couldn't go with her, with only one that actually made some sense, before she threw in the real hooker, "Plus, Tris, I want to go with you. I never get to do fun stuff with you." Sandry peered at me over my book, her eyebrows raised, "Come on Tris, It'll be fun. Just us, girls." 

I silently snorted. Just us girls indeed. 

I looked up at her and our eyes met. I meant to challenge her there, but unfortunately, they were so terribly pleading, I finally gave in. Sighing, I asked, "When do we leave?" 

Sandry let out a large squeal before stammering off all the descriptions and details of our trip. Running over to a large desk that was adjacent to Discipline's kitchen, she pulled out a large flyer. On the front of the piece of paper was a large, rocky coastline that, on the top, was a colorful marketplace. 

Pointing her finger to building that I could hardly make out, she explained, "This is the royal embassy. . . a kind of lodging convenience that they allowed my Uncle into. However, my Uncle won't be attending; I will." She stared at me, a slight smile playing on her lips, "That means we'll get to stay here." She bit her lip in excitement. I just looked back at her and managed a droopy smile. 

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head, "Come on, Tris! It'll be fun!" 

I tried to smile bigger, but Sandry just giggled at my futile attempts. Getting up from her sitting position, she started to head into her room, "I'll be packing Tris. Remember to pack lighter clothes. . . it's supposedly hotter on Nidra Island." With that, she retreated inside her room. 

I rolled my eyes and commenced on reading my book. 

_______________________ 

We left nearly a week later. It was raining, and even thundering. It couldn't have been a better way to start out a journey that I was not looking very forward to. 

Sandry disagreed. Looking out the bay window and cocking her head from side to side, she moaned, "With all this rain, I hope our boat ride is not delayed." Biting her lip, she looked up at me and raised her eyebrows worriedly. 

I caught her worried glance. "Yeah, I sure hope not," I lied, before shrugging. Holding onto a light suitcase, with little more than a few changes of clothes, two books, and a few more feminine products, I looked at the pouring rain. I hoped vainly that the storm was some kind of preliminary of a cyclone that would postpone our trip altogether. 

"Oh, quit your bleating," someone casually said behind us, "if this continues, the plants are going to be flooded, and guess who's going to have to reroute the water and clear off the damage?" 

Sandry whipped her head around to glance at the other person. I merely peered at him over my shoulder. It was Briar. He had come to wish us good-bye. Right now, he was waiting for an reply from one of us. Most likely from Sandry. 

Crossing her arms across her chest, Sandry raised an eyebrow at him. Her expression invited him to answer his own question. 

Briar jabbed a thumb towards his chest and lifted his head up in a braggart sort of way. "Me, that's who," He declared, before waggling his eyebrows comically. 

Sandry half-frowned, in her cute sort of way, before punching him playfully in the arm. "Complain, complain. Can't you find anything _happy_ about life?" 

He bit his lip, "Let's see here," he fakely pondered the question for a few brief seconds, before concluding, "Well, I can think of one." With that, he winked at her flirtatiously and muttered, "Oh, you angel." His voice was teasing and a bit sarcastic. Sandry simply giggled and hit him in the arm again. 

I immediately rolled my eyes at their little display and, without meaning to, snorted. Loudly. 

Both Sandry and Briar quickly glanced at me before exchanging confused glances. Feeling somewhat awkward, I turned around and faced them, and I was about to say something, but was fortunately was interrupted by Sandry's uncle. 

"Sandry, Tris, the boat is ready to leave. They say the storm is just momentary, and should roll over in about twenty minutes. Meanwhile, they're making sure all the passengers are safely aboard." He said all this without looking at us, but looking out the door, as if he was expecting someone. When he glanced up at us, his eyebrows furrowed at our little awkward position. Looking from Sandry and Briar to me and then to Sandry and Briar again, he asked, "Is everything okay?" 

Sandry suddenly snapped out of her confused aura and looked cheerfully at her Uncle, "Nope, nothing's wrong. At least," she stared gingerly at me, "I don't think so." Shaking her head, she smiled sweetly, "Ready Tris?" 

I half-smiled, "Ready as I'll ever be." 

The excitement nearly bubbling out of her, Sandry quickly picked up her two embroidered suitcases, before turning to Briar. Smiling brightly at him, Sandry threw her arms around him, while her suitcases clashed on his back. 

Briar stood in shock for a few seconds, before he hesitantly put his arms around her. "Woah there. . . you're not going away forever, ya know." 

She giggled before pulling back from him. "Yes, I suppose so." Shrugging her shoulders, she turned to me, bobbed her head and said, "We'd better go. The boat can't wait forever." She gave a parting glance to Briar, before heading towards the door where her Uncle stood. 

I stood semi-awkwardly with Briar after she left and then turned to him. Running my tongue across my teeth, I pursed my lips together. 

"See ya around, Coppercurls," He finally said, his voice clear and friendly. 

I was still half-way irritated with him for his flirtatious nature with Sandry, so I simply nodded my head, "I'll see you around, Briar." I stared at him over the rim of my glasses for a brief second before I headed out the door. I could feel him stare at my back while I left, but I ignored it. I didn't know if I was really mad at Briar, but I'm sure he thought I was. 

As I was walking down the long corridor of Duke Verdis' hallway, I heard Briar call after me: "I'll miss you, Tris!" 

I stopped in my tracks before I turned around and glanced at him. His face was somewhat pathetic, sorta twisted and handsome at the same time. Smiling back at him, I nodded my head before I turned and headed towards Sandry and the boat. 

_____________________________ 

And so here I was, in Nidra Island. With Sandry. In the Royal Nidra Embassy. And I was bored as Hell. 

I let loose a huge sigh before looking back into our small apartment. I couldn't really complain about the room. It was nice. Actually, it was glamorous. The main room, which they had called, "The Reclining Room", had shiny, hardwood floors with the walls adorned with white leather wallpaper. The entire room was richly furnished with something Sandry called cedar, and there were pictures of stiff, rich royals hanging everywhere. Our bedrooms were on either side of the Reclining Room and they weren't any less glamorous. A kitchen was in front of the Reclining Room and there was a long corridor that finally led to our main door. Currently, I was out on our private balcony that overlooked the colorful Nidra Marketplace. 

I headed into the Reclining room where Sandry was stitching something on the couch. When she heard me enter from the balcony, she looked up at me, he eyes dull but twinkling, as they always were. Smiling knowingly, she asked quietly, "Bored?" 

Blinking at her, I frowned. "What do you think?" 

Sandry nodded before putting her embroidery down and stretching. She yawned quietly before shaking her head in an attempt to wake herself up. Finally, after her little ritual, she glanced up at me. "Wanna go do something?" She asked meekly, her lips in a quiet smile. 

I diverted my eyes to the window. Still no clouds. "There's nothing better to do." 

I heard her giggle and stand up from off the couch. "Well," she started, "I don't have anything to do until dinner, when I have to meet with Earl Heold to discuss trading routes." I rolled my eyes at this. I had gone to one of her dinner parties. It was usually just some simpering snobs who only consented to do what Sandry said because she was pretty. Most of them were old nobles who hadn't had any female attention ever since their wives had children and didn't wish to touch them again. Sometimes Sandry was cold and aloof to them when they tried to flirt with her, but most of the time she was oblivious to their futile attempts. 

"Do you want to go to the Marketplace?" She asked finally, her voice hesitant. 

We had already been to the Marketplace twice, but once it had been under the protection of Sandry's royal bodyguards, and we couldn't usually head into a large crowd or her bodyguards would throw a royal-panic. The other time, she was hit on by some old merchant who had a pot-belly and smelled like greased bacon. Needless to say, the marketplace didn't sound like a very agreeable to be in. 

However: "Sure," I lied, mostly because I could find nothing better to do. I looked back at her, and she smiled sweetly at me. 

"I'm going to go change," she said, walking towards her room. As she was half-way there, she turned around and looked at me. "Tris, why don't you change into that dress I made you a few weeks ago. It looks so good with your eyes." 

I eyed her for a few seconds. I knew the dress she was talking about, and knew immediately that it wasn't what I usually wore. It was made out of a light, blue linen, and cut just a little above the ankle. Sandry insisted that's how they wore the dresses now, accompanied with lace-up boots. I felt like an alien in it, like I was walking around in a different body. However, it wasn't an ugly dress, and it wasn't like my usual dark wool dress that I owned. And they were so hot to wear 

Still smiling, she pleaded, "Come on Tris. . . you look so pretty in it." 

I wanted to snort at this comment, but instead I threw up my hands and consented. She smiled at me before retreating inside her chambers. 

Huffing, I went inside my room also. I saw my bag on the large bed that was in the dead center of my room. Grunting, I roughly sorted through my luggage. Finding the dress Sandry wanted me to wear, I quickly slipped off my old, dark-gray dress and put on the lighter one. Tying the blue satin sashes that tied just under the bust, I turned around and stole a look at myself in the mirror. 

The dress looked pretty nice on me. But, I still felt like I had stole one of Sandry's dresses and was wearing it. 

Sighing, I put my other heavier dress inside the bag and shut it. I glanced back in the mirror again. It was the same old me, just with a different dress on. I pulled my hair on top of my head, trying to see what I would look like in Sandry's usual braid-on-the-top-of-the-head. It just looked like Tris in Sandry's usual braid-on-the-top-of-the-head. Frowning, I grabbed my brush off my vanity and went through my hair, trying to calm some of the unruly curls in my hair. It worked. . . somewhat. 

I gave up and headed outside the room. Looking down at my dress, I readjusted the dress so it didn't crumple so much at the hips. While I was doing so, I heard Sandry exit her room. She shut her door before shrieking, "Tris, I LOVE that dress on you!" 

I looked up at her and crinkled my nose. "I don't know. . . it really isn't me." 

She was wearing a lavender dress. In fact, she was wearing the lavender dress. The one that she wore at Midsummers and it was the first (and only) time Briar admitted that she looked, "really pretty." It wasn't really a spectacular dress. It was plain cotton that was died lavender. It cut low on the hips, and the sashes tied on the side of her left-hip. The skirt flowed to her ankles like mine, and she had a pair of light, brown suede boots. It wasn't extraordinary at all. It was just that it looked good on her, with her piled braids and her almost indigo eyes. 

Instantly I knew that it wouldn't be the best dress to wear at a public market. Sandry immediately caught my conspicuous glare and asked, "Is there something wrong?" She looked down her dress and asked, "Is there something on my dress?" 

Oblivious as ever. I shook her head and lied, "No, nothings on it. It's fine." I managed a fake smile. 

She smiled back at me, although hers were now a bit suspicious. "All right then Tris." She stared at me strangely before asking, excitement dripping off her words, "Are you ready?" 

I shifted awkwardly in my dress, before nodding me head. "Couldn't be more ready." 

Smiling, Sandry headed to our door, and yelled, to no one in particular, "Marketplace, here we come!"   
  
______________________________ 

"Hey pretty Ladies!" Some bellowed at us, most likely a jewelry peddler. He screamed at us again, "Pretty Ladies, come look at this necklace. Such pretty faces as yours deserve such a pretty jewel!" 

Although I was adamantly against giving into one of these annoying merchants who gave all merchants a bad name, Sandry smiled shyly at me. She obviously wanted to entertain this man into the fact that we would actually buy something. Rolling my eyes, I murmured, "Go if you want to." 

Smiling broadly, she grabbed my wrist and literally dragged me to the merchants stall. We nearly came into hard contact with the merchants stall, before Sandry pressed herself against it. She looked at the array of jewelry, her eyes glittering with excited curiosity. 

The Merchant laughed at her. "Does the Lady see anything that she likes?" 

I was about to say that, No, the lady wants to leave right now, but Sandry interrupted me. 

"You have such beautiful jewelry," She breathed, before she delicately touched a necklace. It was had a thin, delicate silver chain that came down into a small jewel that shimmered a deep purple. Sandry was about to pick it up, but looked shyly up at the merchant, "May I try it on?" 

The merchant smiled broadly at him, his teeth showing brightly underneath a thick mousy-brown mustache. "Of course, mi'lady. Would you like me to help you put it on?" 

Sandry smiled at him and nodded her head. "If you wouldn't mind." 

"Not at all, mi'lady." With that, the merchant wrapped the necklace around her neck and clasped it together. 

I rolled my eyes. Sandry, too polite as always. Crossing my arms across my chest, I looked as Sandry admired the necklace in the mirror that laid on the merchant's stall. 

"Does anything catch your eye, mi'lady." The merchant asked me slyly, trying to sound casual and calm, as if he could care less if I actually bought something. 

I simply looked at him with pursed lips, my eyes glowering. "No," I replied tartly, my whole body suggesting that he leave me alone. 

He blinked at me before bowing his head curtly. "Very well, but if you need any help. . ." 

"I won't." I interjected, still glaring at him. He bowed again before retreating to Sandry, who was more than willing to lead him on to the fact that she might buy something. 

Chewing the inside of my cheek impatiently, I glanced around the marketplace. There were a few other screaming merchants, but for the most part, most stayed content at their booths, letting their products speak for themselves. The booth next to me was crammed full of books. Some looked dusty and torn and some looked fresh and new. Suddenly interested, I was about to tell Sandry that I was going to look at them before something caught my eye. 

A thread of neon magic flashed in the corner of my vision. Blinking in surprise, I quickly whipped my head towards the source. A man was standing adjacent to the booth, looking curiously at me and Sandry. Seeing me stare at him, he quickly shoved a cloth into his pocket, which was covered in magic. He smiled toothily at me, his smile eerily crooked. His hair was covered by a top hat, but a salt-and-pepper beard framed his bottom jaw. He was dressed respectively, and I quickly knew that he wasn't a merchant. And that made me suspicious. 

Raising an eyebrow at me, he tipped his top hat before saying coolly, "Good afternoon, My Lady." Without letting me get in a decent word, he quickly walked away, his back facing the stall, and a large dark blue cape flapping behind him. 

I stared at him for awhile, my instincts blaring red. It seemed as if I had seen him before, but I couldn't connect his face with a name. Biting my lip, I turned to tell Sandry about the man, but when I faced her, she was beaming a bright smile at me. 

"Do you like it?" She asked, her hand delicately placed over the necklace. 

I blinked at her before I looked over her shoulder. A very happy merchant was putting a silver astral in a collection bag behind us. Sighing, I stated wearily, "You actually bought it. Unbelievable." 

She frowned at me, and then shook her head, "It was a bit much, but then again, I haven't bought anything here so far." She looked down at it, before smiling pleasurably, "I think it's pretty." 

I rolled my eyes before mumbling quietly, "I'm sure Briar will think so too." 

Still looking at her necklace, Sandry didn't catch my thought that I had spoken out loud. Finally registering that I had spoken, she looked up at me. "Hm? What did you say, Tris? I didn't quite catch you." She blinked innocently at me, her eyes big and curious. 

Sighing, I shook my head. "I don't remember," I said, obviously lying. 

Sandry raised an eyebrow at me. I supposed she knew that I was lying, but didn't want to press the subject. "Okay. . . but if you think of it, go ahead and tell me." She looked around the marketplace, before asking, "Where do you want to go now?" 

I was about to tell her that the book stand look preferable, but someone pulled at the hem of Sandry dress. Looking down, I saw a young boy, only about four. He came only a little above Sandry's knee, and he looked up at her with large, caramel eyes. 

She smiled at him before bending down so that she was face-to-face with him. Sandry bit her lip before saying sweetly, "Is there something wrong, sweetheart?" 

The child looked like most locals on Nidra Island: Light cocoa skin, creamy, light-brown eyes, and deep, mahogany hair. It peered innocently at Sandry through his large eyes before mumbling something in the Nidran language. Sandry looked up at me, her eyes questioning. 

Realizing she wanted a translation, I slightly back away. "Don't look at me-- I'm just here because you asked me," I said defensively. 

Sandry frowned before turning back to the child. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted. 

The child suddenly pointed behind Sandry and myself, yelling something frantically on top of his little foreign lungs. I blinked at him before quickly turning her head around. Sandry did so also. 

Looking around the marketplace, I saw nothing but a crowd of people who were looking at us and the child strangely. Feeling awkward, I was about to yell at them to mind their own business, but was was interrupted by Sandry shrieking. 

Turning around sharply, all I saw was the small child running ahead, weaving in and out of the crowd. I blinked at him for a few seconds before averting my attention to Sandry. She was staring blankly at the child in shock. 

Then suddenly, as if struck, she grabbed my hand and said, "Come on. . . we're going after him." She picked up the edge of her dress with the other hand before sprinting and dragging me through the crowded city streets. 

I had no choice but to follow her, my hair flying in the wind. Running clumsily, I stepped on a man's toe. He turned to me and snarled, his teeth chipped and yellow, "Watch it, ya wrench." 

I was about to sneer something equally as biting to the man, but Sandry tugged me along, so that I saw him no longer. I stumbled backwards for awhile before turning myself around and running with legs in front of me. Huffing from exhaustion, I nearly spat, "Sandry, what are we doing?" I nearly tripped on a crack in the walk. "Why are we following him?" 

She frowned, her brow creased ahead. The boy was still maneuvering through the hoards of people, and it was becoming increasingly harder to follow him. People were shouting at us left and right, telling us to stop shoving. Biting her lip, she told me over the noise in the marketplace. "That boy just stole my necklace. . . tore it right off my neck." 

Hearing this, I rolled my eyes. That necklace was probably fake anyways. "Can't you let the police handle it?" I said in-between pants. 

"No," She replied solidly, "The police won't be able to find it among all these people, and they'll probably hurt the boy if they found him." 

I stared at her for a few seconds before shaking my head in disbelief. How typical, a street boy, probably stealing his day's worth of goods. Just what we needed. . . especially since Sandry was so attached to it. And since Sandry's so stubborn. 

We broke through the crowd's for a few minutes, almost losing the boy, must still seeing catching him in the corner of our eyes. 

It wasn't until about five minutes, when I thought I was going to die of asphyxiation, that the boy finally eased into an alleyway. 

Sandry smiled evilly before saying, "Now, we've got him. It's a dead end." We rounded into the alleyway before finally stopping. 

As soon as she let go of my hand, I bent down and panted heavily. Sandry breathed heavy too, but she was so focused on getting back her necklace, she wasn't as concentrated on getting her lungs to work as usual. 

The alleyway was dark. The end of it was covered in crates and wastebaskets. Something moved, its red eyes flashing. I shivered. Stuff like that creeps me out. Looking around, I saw no evidence of the boy we were chasing. Knitting my eyebrows together, I glanced up at Sandry. The confusion on her face mirrored mine. 

"Hello?" She called hesitantly. "Hello, little boy. . ." Walking deeper into the alleyway, her eyes darted around. I just kept my eyes glued on the animal that was stirring in the back of the alleyway. 

Sandry picked up a crate and looked around. "Where could have he gone?" She asked herself, her voice echoing off the walls. "Maybe he climbed up the wall," She said, her voice steeped in confusion. 

I craned my head up and looked at the tall buildings on both sides of us. They were at least five stories high. "Yeah, maybe," I replied sarcastically while rolling my eyes. 

Sandry turned around and frowned at me. "Well, he couldn't have just disappeared," she retorted before turning to look around the alleyway. 

Shrugging, I looked back at the back of the alleyway. The thing with the red eyes had disappeared. Licking my lips, I stood up in a full-right position. "Sandry, I don't think we're going to find him," I spoke, "maybe we should just go back to. . ." 

My words slowly drifted off when I heard footsteps echo through the alleyway. Wrinkling my forehead, I heard them again, coming closer to me. Something beat wildly in my stomach. They came closer until it sounded as if someone was right behind me. Swallowing nervously, I turned sharply around. A tall, dark shadow was in front of me, contrasting with the bright sunlight behind him. My eyes widened. 

"Hello, Trisana." He greeted smoothly, his voice sounding oddly familiar. Suddenly, he whipped something out of his coat pocket and it glowed with a neon magic. 

Seeing it, I managed to gasp and I tried to back away. However, the man grabbed me by the wrist, pressing the cloth to my face. 

The magic overwhelmed me, and my brain was filled with thousands of terrible images. Pain, death, people crying out. I tried to scream, but the images were too overwhelming. I simply feel limply to the ground, writhing in pain. 

The last thing I remembered was Sandry's screams, a struggle, and then I slipped into a unconscious, blissful darkness. 

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**Reads over what I wrote and winces** Not my best work, yes. Oh well. It's for fun. What do ya think? Should I continue? Er, yes? Er, no?   
  


  



	2. Barrier Of Feelings: Sandry

_Disclaimer: I'm just a poor student. . . nobody loves me. . . LET HER GO. . . THIS WILL NOT GO! Er, anyway, don't sue me. Pwease?___

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**Sandry's POV:**

It wasn't until I heard Tris gasp that I realized that someone other than her and myself were in the alleyway. Eyes wide, I felt myself swallow thickly before turning sharply on my heels. 

A dark contrast of man stood in front of me, his shoulders broad and important looking. I shouldn't have been alarmed, if it had been anyone but him, I wouldn't have been alarmed. But, there was something about him. Something that made my insides scream in alertness, in trepidation. 

He approached me quickly, faster than I had thought humanly possible. I managed to stumble backwards, looking at him in terror. I wanted to do something, run, scream, shout, tell somebody that there was a man attacking me, but my throat felt like cotton and my limbs like lead. I looked quickly at the ground, to find, to my horror, Tris squirming in silent pain. 

The man didn't speak or tell me to not struggle. Instead, he pulled out something behind his back. It looked like a ordinary cloth, except that it glowed of neon magic. If circumstances had been altogether different, I would have wished to have examined it. But, of course, this wasn't the time nor place to do so. 

Fast as lightening, he attempted to place the cloth over my face. I staggered backward, nearly tripping over my dress. I wanted to tell him off, to get away, but all I could manage was a sick sounding whimper. The man didn't speak, but simply chuckled deeply in his throat. I stumbled back a few more steps before finding myself cornered against a mess of crates and concrete wall. 

Watching in dread, the man came closer to me before covering my face with his cloth. I grabbed the man's wrists, trying to pry the awful cloth away from me, but a sudden wash of images invaded my entire conscious. I grimaced, feeling my body go limp. The things that were displayed in front of my mind were horrific. . . people dying, a young boy being beaten by a street guard, a woman screaming. I felt their pain, like nails digging sharply in my flesh. I felt something that felt like whip come across my back making me let out a pained scream. 

My body was getting weaker and weaker by the second. It felt like I had seen the images for forever before darkness started to edge my vision. I fell to my knees, still trying to wrench the cloth from my face. It felt as if someone had dunked me underwater and was holding me there, to suffocate. To die. 

A blissful nothing-ness was calling me. My eyelids felt heavy as lead, and my head pounded with pain. I wanted the images to go away, and the darkness that nearly surrounded me offered my escape from these things. I gingerly licked my lips, about to fall away from consciousness, but a thought suddenly hit me like a smack in the face. 

Briar. I had to tell Briar. He could help. . . he could make these awful things go away. 

Reaching into myself, I called out to him. _Briar. . ._

It took a few seconds before he responded. _Sandry. . .? What's going on?_

I had little time to respond. Instead, I sent him a sharp feeling of pain, hoped he could understand why, before falling to the ground and severing the connection abruptly. 

I knew little else for a very long time.   
__________________________ 

"Sandry," Someone whispered harshly at me, their voice piercing through my blissful unconsciousness. Moaning, I turned away from them, reaching out for the numbing darkness that was fluttering away from me by the second. 

"Sandry," it said again, this time more demanding, "wake up! Will you wake up?!" The person hit me roughly in the shoulder, and the darkness started to rush away like I was leaving a long tunnel, funneling into light. 

The first thing that I became aware of was the tremendous pounding in my head. It throbbed painfully throughout my brain, churning mercilessly like a steel drum, pounding every few seconds. I groaned in agony, but the person next to me showed no pity. 

"Will you get up? For Mithros sake. . ." I recognized the voice now that I was fully conscious. Tris. 

And then I remembered the man, the images, and contacting Briar. 

I quickly sat up, my head objecting to this action. Gasping down the pain, I reached up to my forehead. It felt as if someone had chopped my skull into tiny splinters. 

"Ow. . ." I mumbled, tears collecting on the sides of my eyes. My whole ached terribly, and I couldn't feel my toes for they were so damp and cold at the same time. Swallowing, my throat felt like cotton, heavy and thick, and it burned like fire. I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes again and enter to a blissful nothingness, but I was faced with an obstacle. 

Tris. 

She was at my side at a second, pushing me up against a damp wall, trying to sturdy me. Her voice was persistent and annoying in my ear, and at first, I couldn't seem to make her words into comprehensible sentences. But slowly, as the pain in my head started to ease to a simple throbbing ache, I could manage some of what she was telling me. 

"Sandry, can you hear a word I'm saying? Holy Great Mother, what did that man do to you anyway?!" She was pressing something cold and wonderful against my forehead. I could hear the anger stewing in her voice, boiling over in her words. Tris was steaming; at what I wasn't quite sure. 

After a moments thought, I threw caution to the wind and popped open an eye. It burned for a mere second before it adjusted to the light-- thankfully there was little of it. I dared to open the second one, squinting at first, more or less in fear of pain, but after a few seconds of minimal anguish, I started to observe my surroundings.   
  
I could see I was in what looked like a large underground chamber. The entire wall of was made of glittering stone, roughly but sturdily cut. The only light in the entire room was firelight, burning brightly from large torches on the wall, hung by brass holders. A rather large desk stood in the middle of the room. It looked expensive, made of the rare wood found in the far reaches of the western sea. I believe they call it pine. Numbers of papers were stacked on the desk, looking unorganized but in the same way professional. Me and Tris were laying on the ground, but a thin cotton blanket was separated us from the damp cold floor. 

Blinking hazily, as everything seemed to have a glassy aura around it, I glanced up at Tris. In her hand she held a cloth, ripped from the dress I had made her. It dripped of dank water. The entire chamber dripped of water. I could barely see her, for the lack of light in the room, but she was definitely there. Her face was livid, and I would have laughed had our predicament been better. 

I glanced around our surroundings once again, as if in stupid disbelief, before muttering, "Where. . . where in Mithros' name are we?" 

Looking back up at Tris, I watched as she followed my observations of the chamber. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, confused and angry at the same time. Finally, after a minute's silence she shook her head. "I don't know, Sandry. I just don't know." 

I bit my lip when I heard her say this. If I had been much younger I would have started to cry, but awakening in strange places was not new to me. I doubted Tris was feeling much more in despair. Instead, our cringes of brow were more or less in frustration than in desperation. 

The coldness in my toes had been quite annoying by the time I finally decided to stand up. I figured that walking would help get the blood flowing to them again, maybe providing some extra warmth. 

As I stood up, I immediatly regretted this. A wave of nauseating blackness edged on the sides of my vision. Groaning, I closed my eyes, felt my head spin, before I put out a hand against the wall to help steady me. 

"Woah. . . hmm. . ." I grumbled, feeling my stomach roll in protest to my actions. I could hear Tris stand up next to me, knowing her eyes were boring into me and then into the doorway. 

"Damn that man," she paused in thought, before adding, "or whatever It is." 

I swallowed thickly, feeling my throat burn painfully. Looking around the room, I pivoted on my head around so that I was leaning against the wall on my back. Blinking away my the pain in my eyes, I shook my head and squinted. The way the walls were built seemed vaguely familiar, like something I had once read about, or once heard about. Wherever I had heard it, it didn't bring pleasant memories to my head. Instead, a shiver went up my spine. 

Turning to Tris, I looked around the room. "Do you remember any of us coming down here?" I asked, placing my hand against the rough stone cutting, taking mental notes. 

"Nope," she replied shortly, before stating, "I just woke up a little bit before you did." She shrugged her shoulders. 

Biting the inside of my cheek, I rubbed the back of my neck. It felt as if I had tied into a thousand different knots. Even though Tris and I were in a dark, strange room, our compositions were fairly calm and measured, or at least as well as conditions could allow. I smiled crookedly. We had gotten ourselves in worse situations. Often, no thanks to Briar. 

Briar. My smile became broader. I had managed to get contact with him before me and Tris had become captured. . . or whatever we were. I had found my loophole. Concentrating, I started to contact him. 

_Briar. . ._

Then something slammed, like a huge wall of bricks. The contact between me and him came down crashing with a large bang. For a mere second I thought I might have gotten through to him, but the large barrier blocked out any light on that idea whatsoever. A shiver ran through my entire body, making my eyes water in complete despair. There was something so chilly and blank and. . . infinite about that wall. 

When the connection severed, it left a ringing through my eyes that could not be explained. Yelping I covered them, feeling then throb in pain. Pulling back, I stared at the hand that had covered my left ear. It was spotted with blood. 

"Did you try to contact someone?" Tris asked, her voice sounding very uneventful and unconcerned. 

Tears welling on my eyes, I simply nodded in reply. 

I heard her sigh. "Yeah, I've already tried. As you already know, it doesn't really work." She showed me her hand, and I stared at it with blurred vision. It was covered in blood, much worse than mine. Knowing Tris, she had most likely screamed at someone, making the barrier much worse than it already was. 

"Why. . . why?" I uttered, still holding my injured ears. They were burning like fire now. 

Tris shrugged before she slumped down against the wall. "I don't know." I saw her fold her hands across her chest. "It probably has something to do with our whole situation," Tris paused before I saw her shake her head. "But something about it is so. . . lonely." She shook again, except this time it was her entire body. 

Yes, lonely. That was the first adjective in describing the wall. So terribly lonely, as if the walls of death had come staring at you. It felt as if Briar had suddenly taken to fever and died, and I was completely alone, which was totally absurd. I had Tris standing right next to me, in my presence. Yet, it felt as if my soul had been wrenched from my body, leaving me naked, cold and afraid. To never hear his voice again, to never straighten his forever upturned collar, to never scold him for being a nuisance, to never tease him and then he smile crookedly at me seemed the same as death to me. Or, what was even worse, to never feel the pleasant warmth I felt when around him. . . I shook my head. It didn't matter. I was not alone. Briar was not dead. Shaking my head, I convinced myself I was thinking utter nonsense. 

Knitting my eyebrows together, I thought aloud. "Well, for right now, we'll just to have to ignore the separation. I managed to contact Briar while we were being attacked, so I think he might get here in. . ." 

"You were able to get through!" Tris sat up, looking at me in surprise. 

Reeling back, I studied her carefully. "Yes. . . " I said slowly, hoping that she had heard right. "Yes, I contacted Briar." 

She seemed to relax, but a look of perplexity was still on her face. "How you can ever just think," she said, "while that was happening, I'll never know." She said something after that, but I didn't catch it, although I think it had something to do with Briar. I was too busy thinking. 

My thoughts were immediately brought back to my struggle in the alley, and the dark footsteps that eventually conquered my consciousness. I remembered the horrible images that invaded my very spirit, like someone had put a large wet washcloth every hope and dream that had ever occurred to me. I saw the child being beaten, the whip hitting his back over and over again, his anguished face. And then I saw something horrific that the boy clutched in his right hand. A bright purple necklace, looking shimmery and glittery before it was stained with the child's own blood. 

I gasped, my eyes snapping open. Panting for air, as if I had just come out of water, I wheezed desperately, looking around my surroundings. There was still a large desk in the middle of the room, still lighted by the dim torch light. 

And then there was that terrible glorious smell that permeated the entire room. I could not describe it then, but to my feeble mind it reminded me of something that disturbed my very soul. The whole chamber reeked of both a stifling lavender and . . . death. The offensive smell of blood reached my nostrils, and the bitter smell of the lavender made my eyes water even more than they already were. Yet, in the same way, it smelled holy. Very holy. 

I was still gasping when I locked eyes with Tris. Her stormy gray eyes were glittering and full of emotion, as they often are. We held a small conversation right there, but as if that did not suffice, we held the most productive conversation that I had ever had. 

"Did you, you know. . . also?" I asked, muttering my words. 

"Yes," Tris replied stiffly. 

"Should we. . .?" 

"Yeah, we should." 

With that, we both ran in a dead sprint towards the door, which was to the left of us. Both of our thoughts were the exact same. We were going to get out of here as fast as we possibly could, even if it meant a few obstacles. 

We both reached the door handle at the same time, and our hands had to readjust to fit around the huge handle, which was formed in an iron loop. At the same time we heaved and pulled, trying to force the door on its hinges. It didn't budge. We tried again. Nothing happened. Then, planting my foot firmly on the ground and grasping the doorknob, we gave it a last try. I heard Tris grunting as we pulled. I felt my muscles ache in frustration, but I ignored it. I simply pulled harder. 

It didn't work. 

Letting go, I stared in dismay at the door. Biting my lip, I huffed. "It's not budging ," I stated plainly, feeling a little more desperate. 

Tris looked at me, her eyes squinted. Folding her arms across her chest, she rolled her eyes, "I'm so glad I've got you around to tell me these things," she bit in sarcastically, before biting her lip also. 

I glared at her accusingly before staring at the door. It was large and wooden, looking it like weighed at least several hundred pounds without the heavy doorknob. Even though Tris had a great deal of muscle and I probably had the most calloused hands in the Kingdom of Nidra from my countless hours of stitching, there was probably little chance of making the door move. 

Sighing, I folded my arms, surveying our situation. I ground my teeth before turning to Tris. "Should we give it another try?"   
  
She sighed also before shrugging. "I don't think we've got very many options." With that, she spit on her hands before grabbing hold of the doorknob. I followed her example before I counted down. 

"On three. . . One, Two, Three!" And we pulled. We pulled until I think both of our muscles groaned in utter agony. Inbetween my teeth, I muttered, "How do we get into these things, Tris?" 

"I dunno! Just keep pulling!" 

With our last breaths and last power, we gave the door one more mighty tug. And, for a mere breath of a second, I thought we had succeeded. The door suddenly buckled, as if a rusted screw had snapped, and swung open. I was thrown backwards, on my backside, bruising it for sure. Tris was not thrown back, but she stumbled on her steps before insuring steady footing. She looked excitingly at our exit before her face dropped. 

I was about to yelp out in joy, but when I saw Tris' face, I clamped my mouth shut. Staring at the door, all I saw were a pair of shiny, black leather boots. Squinting, I stared upwards, past a pair of finely wooden silk britches, with a leather strip down the side of the thigh. Above the britches was a engraved leather belt, in which a cotton shirt was tucked into. A thick, wool, navy cape came to about mid calf, and a embroidery surrounded the entire edge of the cape. I had almost admired the fine clothes he was wearing when I saw the face of the man. 

I stopped and gaped. 

Tris' mouth opened, no words came out. She opened it again before nearly yelling in surprise, "You!" 

A salt and pepper beard and stern, oddly handsome face greeted me in a wry smile. . . 

"I should've known!" Tris exclaimed again, before her eyes squinted dangerously, "I saw you in the marketplace!" 

A stiff jaw and piercing eyes. He stared at me intently. . . 

I closed my mouth and pursed my lips stiffly. "How do you do, Earl Heold?" I greeted, trying to make my voice sound as icy as possible. 

"How do you do, Lady Sandrilene?" He greeted me back, with a slight nod of the head. "I believe we have a meeting scheduled now, if I am not mistaken." 

"You are not mistaken." My lips were pursed so hard together that they hurt. 

"Then let us sit: We have much to discuss." 

And we sat. 

* * *

_Author Notes: Yeah, well, DO THE HOKEY POKEY! Er, not working. . . you guys are pretty pissed off at me right? I haven't updated for awhile. I'M SORRY!! I REALLY, REALLY, AM! I have a busy life peoples (er, sorta). Forgive me please. Crossing A Blurred Line's next chapter will be out sometime, I promise. I have not forgotten the dear story. And this story is not forgotten, I promise. Anywho, review this please. Pweety pwease? Thanks a billion people for being patient. It is much appreciated.___

_BTW, is everyone okay with this story turning a little dark? I was trying to move away from that, but little plot bunnies keep popping up in my head and won't go away. Well, we'll see. MWHAHA! **Coughs. . . gags**_


	3. Silence Of A Song: Briar

_Disclaimer: La, Sir! Anyway, no money being made, don't sue. Skititty Skat. . . you get the deal._

_A/N: Consider this a warning my dear friends, this chapter has quite a bit of romantic hints. If you don't Sandry/Briar coupling, or you simply don't like romance, then I suggest you hitch-hike outa here. Don't tell me I didn't warn you. Actually, the romance ain't bad, but ya know. I didn't plan on having this chapter (story for that manner) romantic, but, as most of my fellow writers' know, you have very little control of your story. Er, annoying, eh? Well, anywho, enough author notes. Story? Oh, yeah. . ._   
__________________________ 

**Briar's POV:**

Grinding my teeth together, I willed myself to simply stare blankly ahead. Glancing outside a window, I watched as the ocean crashed against the rocky ledges outside. I watched as they pounded against the rocks, smashing mercilessly. And I so wanted to open the window, throw myself out, and fall upon those crushing waves. 

At least it would be better than this. This migraine, this room, this arguing between. . . 

"I told you to stay on your side of the room,_ bag_." 

"Oh, shut-up! I _am_ on my side of the room!" 

"Your side, my foot! Look for yourself; you've obviously crossed the line." 

"There isn't any line, _stupid_!" 

"Oh, why don't you just go to. . ." 

Standing up quite suddenly, I faced the two students, my eyes glittering. "Will you two please just shut-up, for gods' sake?" Clenching my hands tightly, my eyes wild, I sighed before throwing up my hands. "No wonder Sandry took off like she did. I was contemplating suicide just a few seconds ago." I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling quite awkward and angry at the same time. Looking over at the two students, I blinked at their expressions. 

Evvy stared at me with surprise, if not a bit of annoyance. Her typical non-chalant manner was about her, but at the same time, a bit of pleasant shock. Pasco, on the other hand, was pure shock. His eyes were wide open and his mouth was slightly agape. He blinked quickly before closing his mouth and pursing it. 

They had been at it ever since Sandry and Tris had left for Nidra Island last week. Sandry, with her annoyingly large eyes, had asked me to watch Pasco for the two weeks they would be gone. 

"I dunno," I slowly answered her when she had asked me to supervise her student. 

She had been packing her bags, her dresses being folded as if they might break if you dropped them. Looking up at me as she folded a blue one, her eyes pleaded. "Oh, please Briar; I'll make sure he isn't much of a trouble. . ." 

I snorted at this. 

Putting a hand on her hip, she gave me annoyed stare. "What? Pasco isn't that bad. Plus, I can't bother my Uncle with him for the time being." She put the blue dress in her suitcase. 

Rolling my eyes, I put my hand in my pockets. "I don't think he likes me very much, Sandry." 

At this, she laughed. Not a stony kind of laugh, but in that pleasant way that she does, when she tips back her head and places a hand on my arm, her lips in a perfect part. 

And, despite my attempts to look somber as she laughed at my sentence, I smiled. Not just a smile. A stupid looking, goofy grin. 

By the way, I hate this. 

"Oh, Briar!" Sandry exclaimed, her voice ringing throughout the room. "You know you don't care a thing about what Pasco thinks of you." 

"Well, I suppose," I drawled, giving her a crooked smile. "After all," I began, raising my eyebrows, "I am, no debate, extremely handsome, dashing, and witty; it's hard not to be jealous. I can understand why Pasco is bitter." 

She merely rolled her eyes. Still chuckling, she shook her head. "Don't hold your breath." With that, she picked up a lavender dress and held it up to her body. Looking down at it, she raised an eyebrow. "Do you like this dress?" 

Looking at it with the corner of my vision, I simply gulped. Somehow, I had come to a conclusion of a love-hate relationship with that dress. It wasn't a specially wonderful dress. Simple really. No elaborate stitching, or special embroidery. But something about the color of it, matching with her glittering eyes, made you look twice when she had it on. 

Not to mention it hugged in _all _the right places. 

Shaking my head, I cursed silently at myself. It wasn't completely my fault, unless being a male was some kind of fault. It wasn't as if I looked for it, but, with Sandry, it just seemed to be highlighted. Not that I constantly yearned for her beauty or any of that idiotic nonsense, but I couldn't ignore one nagging thought: 

I, Briar Moss, Plant mage, former street rat, thought Sandrilene fa Toren, noble and stitch witch, beautiful. 

"Briar?" Sandry asked, suddenly jerking me out of my thoughts. She gave me an appraising stare, her eyebrow slightly raised before asking, "Are you okay?" 

"Uh. . ." I started, not quite collected. Blinking, I stared at the dress she still held. "Right. Dress. Good." I sniffed nonchalantly, trying to act unconcerned. 

She eyed my expression for a few seconds, trying to interrupt it. Then, smiling knavishly, Sandry simply cocked a devious head at me. "Does it make me look quite. . . alluring?" She twirled around in it, smiling slyly. 

Catching her cunning maneuvers, I shrugged in mock boredom. "I dunno, your highness. That small nose of yours sure does make you look goofy." I stepped back to pretend that I was looking her over. Biting my lip in mock concentration, I shook my head while Sandry laughed at me. "Cute maybe, but alluring. . ." it was here that I winked at her, smiling crookedly, ". . . Leave that hard work to little ol' handsome me." 

Rolling her eyes, Sandry punched me playfully in the arm. I feigned hurt, but she simply laughed at me. "For that, young man," she said, trying to make her voice commanding, "You have to watch Pasco while I'm gone." Closing her suitcase with finality, she looked up at me, her hand on her hips. I suppose I was still smiling crookedly at her, because a large smile broke out on her face. 

And it was here that we smiled at each other for such a long time, I didn't think that we may ever stop. I looked down at her, her glittering blue eyes, and smiling broader, she did also. 

It was the first time were I had to nearly grind my teeth to keep myself from laughing like a maniac. 

Remembering it while I was standing in front of Evvy and Pasco, a grin grew on my face. 

There I was, smiling like a goon in front of the rock mage and a dancing magical kid. I suddenly felt like a half-wit. I gritted my teeth 

Suddenly noticing that there was an incredibly awkward silence, I shifted my position. 

"Uh. . ." I started, my voice sounding unsure. Looking a bit timid, I cursed under my breath. Now Evvy had a bit of a superior look in her eye, as if she could feel my awkwardness radiating off me like a hot brick. 

Darn her. Darn all females by the way. 

Swallowing stiffly, I shook my head, trying my best to look disgruntle. I'm sure I looked utterly ridiculous (Evvy gave me a look) but I nevertheless stuck my hands in my pockets. "I'm going out for a walk." I turned on my heel, still trying to appear as if I was extremely upset, even though, at the most, I was just extremely annoyed. Opening the door to the study that we were occupying in the Duke's Citadel, I glared at them. "Now --if it's even possible-- could you restrain from killing each other while I'm gone?" Raising an eyebrow, I looked at the two students who were throwing visual daggers at each other. 

Pasco sighed heavily before crossing his arms across his chest. "Don't ask me." He managed to glare at Evvy, "_She's_ the one who starts everything. . ." 

"Oh, why don't you go stuff yourself. . .?" Evvy retorted promptly, before sticking her tongue out at him. 

Pasco rolled his eyes before mumbling incoherently but obviously writhing. 

"What's that, _bag_?" Evvy snapped at him, obviously angered at the situation on the whole. 

I could tell that Pasco was about to say something that would result in his injury, so I quickly interrupted, "I'm going out in the garden. If any one of you two just happen to get killed, don't come crying to me." Then, while I was halfway outside, I yelled back at them, "And, if there's blood, just don't make a terrible mess of it." 

Somehow, I managed to pleasantly slam the door, trying to convey a message that I couldn't quite get through their thick skulls. Yet, while I walked down the hallway, I could immediately hear them yelling, bickering once again. 

Rolling my eyes, I chuckled despite myself. Even though me and Sandry hadn't been quite so nasty, there had been a battle of quips. Of course, there was still Daja and Tris, who weren't bad in the contests of wits, but there was something refreshing about Sandry. Maybe because she was the first person to prove that all noblewoman weren't just the simpering snobs that I had always pickpocket in the streets when I was younger. 

Walking measurably through the hallways of the Citadel, I passed the Duke, who was deeply involved in a stack of papers and envelopes. I suppose he heard my footsteps, for he suddenly looked up and grinned. 

"How do you do, Briar?" He asked kindly, his smile soft even though his sharp nose contrasted with his gentle expression. 

Shrugging, I offered a crooked grin. "As well as can be expected, I guess." 

Raising an understanding eyebrow, Duke Vedris' smile changed into a bit of a sympathetic one. "I see. . ." he drawled before he inclined his ear towards the upper chambers of the Citadel. Immediately, something sounded like it had crashed on the floor, and I could hear Evvy voice scream: "Dammit, you _stupid bag_! I told you a thousand times not to touch that and _now_ look what you've done." 

"Oh, my. . ." The Duke added, pursing his lips together. Giving me a look of mutual comprehension, I watched as he licked his lips in concentration. ". . . Headache?" 

"Headache." 

"Ah," He replied simply, shaking his head. Looking in the general direction of the upstairs room, he chuckled gutturally. "I suppose you know how Rosethorn and Lark thought about you two." 

His statement caught me off guard, and I simply regarded him curiously. "What?" Realizing the light tone I used with him, I hastily added, ". . .Sir?" 

Duke Vedris chuckled some more. "You and my niece. At it quite constantly, I must say." 

It was my time to chuckle. Rubbing the back of my neck casually, I shrugged. "What can I say? I am the master." 

He laughed heartily. "Ah, yes. But my niece did give you a run for your money, eh Briar?" 

Cracking a sly smile, I shook my head. The Duke just simply laughed at me some more. 

Great, I entertain nobles now. What's next? Juggling for the Empress? 

As more screams persisted throughout the entire Citadel, I shook my head. Glaring at the floor above, I grumbled quite grumpily, "I suppose I better get up there before Evvy totally annihilates Pasco. For some reason, I don't think Sandry would be too pleased if she had to come back because of Pasco's funeral." 

"I'll watch them for awhile, Briar," The Duke offered surprisingly, and I turned and gave him a look of pleasant surprise. "Plus," he added before shuffling through the piles of paper in his arms, "I believe Sandrilene sent you a letter. I just received it today, and. . . ah ha!" Finding it, the Duke held it up with triumph. He examined it for awhile before handing it delicately to me. "Oh course, she sends _you_ a letter. Not one for her poor dear Uncle." With that, he winked knowingly at me. 

I eyed him suspiciously, and he chuckled at my expression before I took it. "Thanks," I said slowly before again adding quickly, "Your Honor, Sir." 

Another crash sounded in the top of the Citadel. This time it was Pasco's voice yelling, an edge of impatience in it, "Oh, hang it all, girl. . . would you please stop trying to kill me?!" 

Chuckling, the Duke shook his head. "Well, I guess I'm off. Good day, Briar." He tipped his head lightly in a parting bow. 

I nodded at him, watched him climb the stairs slowly, before looking down at the letter. It was addressed to me all right, with the slow cursive letters that Sandry possessed. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I turned it over before greedily ripping it open and tearing the letter from the inside. 

It read: 

_Dear Briar,_

_Well, Tris and I have had a wonderful time here at Nidra Island. The weather is quite pleasant, nothing like that awful drippy weather over in Emelan. The people here are also quite pleasant, albeit the foreign nobles that I've had to meet with. Talk about incorrigible. Briar, they are much worse than you even. Silly nonsense they talk about, and not much of it has to with politics._

_However, Tris seems to be antsy. You know how she is. Tomorrow I only have a few meetings, so therefore I think we shall go to do some things._

_Briar, I think you and I should come down here together. There are many wonderful plants here that I'm sure would fascinate you to no end, and they have a wonderful native stitching pattern here that I would wish to learn. What do you say? After my Uncle is better and Pasco older, we should go._

_I have a meeting in a few more minutes. I suppose I must end here. However, Briar, I miss you terribly. I don't know why, but I have the slightest feeling that your collar is upturned right now. Look. Is it not?_

I looked. My collar was. Shaking my head in disbelief, I mumbled to myself, "I've gotta stop hanging around her so much." 

_Anyway, Briar, I can't imagine that I lasted so many months without seeing you. Sometimes I can't wait to hear you laugh. I don't know why, but it never ceases to make me laugh too. . . Oh my, I don't know what has possessed me to write such words. Girls are silly aren't they Briar? I'm sure you would agree. It's just (how do I even explain?) I just enjoy so much to be around you, and. . ._

It was here that I stopped. Not because of Sandry's words, even though, as I read them, my heart was doing something funny inside of me, as if it was doing skipping beats, or fluttering, or something of that idiocy, and my hand shook insanely, so that I couldn't think of anything put trying to keep my heart pumping normally and my hand to return to its normal state. No, what stopped my reading was the cry. 

Sandry crying. Out to me. 

It was suddenly: _ Briar. . ._

Standing there like a blatant idiot, I couldn't believe that I had actually heard her. I went to open my mouth, but then realized that it wouldn't do any good. Closing it, I called back to her:_ Sandry. . .? What's going on?_

It was then that I felt, possibly, the most horrible feeling known to humankind. Gulping frantically, I stood shock still for what felt like forever. 

I had finally found a way for the fluttering to cease. My heart had stopped. 

I might have lost consciousness, if just for a second, because I remember that my next memory was leaning against the stony wall of the Citadel, breathing heavily. Clenching my head, I tried to think rationally. 

The biggest amount of pain I have ever felt in my entire life had just pervaded my vision. It was if someone just forced me to squeeze a knife and then, with my hand closed tightly, slide my hand through the entire extent of the blade. Images of people dying, crying, being beaten swarmed through my mind, like a spedup version of real life. I clenched my hands tight, tighter, so tight that I could feel my fingernails dig in my flesh. A light stream of warm liquid swam down my hand, down my arm. Blood. 

Perhaps it was that I had just spoken to Sandry that gave me the immediate impression that the instant pain came from her. It didn't come from a sudden illness, and it wasn't just some kind of fluttering pain. No, this was the true kind of pain that one experiences only once in their life. I didn't really truly know this pain, couldn't really, but I had heard the screams on the street as a young kid, and almost mentally felt the pain. There was no way to avoid it, and after awhile, I became callous to it. I suppose I was still somewhat hardened to this pain, but suddenly feeling it from Sandry was like opening up a fresh wound, rubbing salt in it, and then tightly bandaging it so no salt could escape. 

However, I refuse to admit that this was the kind of pain that Sandry had just suddenly sent to me. 

"It couldn't be. . . no. . . crazy," I mumbled insanely to myself, quite sure that if any onlooker happened to simply glance at me, they would be sure that I had cracked. 

Perhaps I had. Right then, I couldn't tell the light of day from the darkness of night. 

Concentrating hard, I closed my eyes and, with all my strength, called out: _Sandry. . .?_

Nothing. 

_Sandry, this ain't funny. Sandry, talk to me. . ._

She remained silent and something came to me suddenly. It was as if something had placed themselves between myself and her. Something ethereal, something beyond my comprehension. Something incredibly holy. 

Nevertheless, I couldn't admit it to myself. This time I nearly yelled. _Sandry, answer me. . . it ain't a funny joke._ Silence. _Come on, really . . ._

There was just static. 

_Dammit Sandry, say something! Anything! Please, oh gods. . ._

There was still no reply. Nothing, not even the grimmest idea that she existed. All that I felt was a blank ugly void stand in front of me, breathing on my face. And that's when I realized what I had just felt. Eyes opened wide in terror, I stared waspishly ahead. 

I had just felt Sandry die. 

Something like a moan escaped my lips, a sound I had never heard myself make. I looked around the corridor madly, feeling quite insane at the moment. 

Sandry had just died. _ Died._ She wasn't coming back anymore. There would be no more battles of the quickest wit. There would be no more laughs at my slithering attempts to make myself look extremely wonderful. There would no more lavender dresses, no more glittering eyes, no more smiles. 

Oh gods, her smile. 

Feeling numb, I couldn't understand why I simply stood in the middle of the Duke's corridor, looking like a madman. My eyes were dilated, my knuckles white from my grasp, and there was a stream of blood running erratically down my arm. 

Yet, I knew why I stood there. I knew perfectly well. Grinding my teeth together, I felt my eyes water unmercifully. 

Why had I been so stupid? Why had I been so stubborn? Shaking my head ferociously, I knew the answer. I was afraid. Afraid of everything. Afraid of rejection, afraid of the emotion itself. 

In fact, I had denied it to everyone, including myself. Yet, I knew it all along. Why hadn't I had an intimate relationship with any other girl yet? I had asked that question to myself numerous times. I was fifteen (going on sixteen) and it was normal to have some inclinations towards the opposite sex. I always had my answer though. 

But, now, my answer had just died. 

_Died._

I think it was the first time during my shocking experience that I realized exactly what that word meant. It meant coldness, loneliness, complete separation. Feeling my breathing become instantly heavy, I felt a feeling of rage come upon me. Like nothing I had every felt. I was angry at myself, and the world, angry at Sandry. 

Turning rapidly on my heel, I faced the wall before raising my fists and pounding it. Leaning my forehead against it, I felt my face burn with my anger, and I pounded it again. 

"How dare she die on me!" I exclaimed, my voice echoing throughout the entire corridor. I pounded the wall again, this time harder. "How could I be so stupid? _Damn. . ._" 

Insanely pounding numerous time on the wall, I felt the flesh on the outside of my hand split, and more blood leak out. However, I welcomed the pain. It brought me back to my reality. Still breathing maniacally, I felt the water in my eyes finally give loose. For the first time in forever, I cried. A hot tear cascaded down my face, and I totally lost my composure. 

I didn't care anymore if anyone saw me. Crumpling undignified on the floor, I put my hand in my hands. Sobs racked me silently, my chest heaving in and out painfully. If circumstances had been altogether different, I would've been embarrassed. Now, I could care less. 

I'm sure I looked absolutely crazed. But, I was. Beyond reason. 

Sandry had died. Not only died, but --I knew for certain-- been killed. I knew that kind of death, knew the taste of it. Saw it on the streets often, could recognize it with a flicker of a glance. 

Someone had killed Sandry. Suddenly, a new kind of rage surrounded me. My sobs subsided almost instantly, and the only thing that remained of my crying was my red eyes. Looking up from my hands, I felt a sneer envelop on my lips. This someone would die. They would taste death. Even if I got myself killed doing so, they would die. 

Pulling myself off the floor, I stared ahead crazily, my eyes fixated ahead. A new kind of insane determination entered my brain, and I clenched my hand tighter, relishing in the intense pain. 

The pain let me know that I was alive. 

My strides across the Citadel and to the stables were quite even and uneventful. When I reached the stable, the stable hand, a young girl, looked up at me sweetly. However, seeing my expression, her look became fearful. 

"Ye. . . Yes, Sur Moss?" She asked hesitantly, backing slowly away from me. 

I didn't even look directly at her. "Get my horse, Kora. I'm going to be off." 

She must have done so quickly, because the next thing I knew, my reigns were being handed to me. "There ya go, sur. . ." 

I gave her a glance before nodding. Mounting my horse, I stared down at her. "How far is the nearest dock?" 

"The Duke's dock is just a little way off, sur." 

"I know. I wanna take the common dock though." 

Kora regarded me curiously before shrugging. "Three miles, Sur Moss." 

"Thanks," I replied shortly, before adding, "Kora, I'm not gonna be around for awhile. Do you understand?" The girl stared suspiciously at my crazed expression before nodding slowly. "Good. Now, you tell Duke Vedris that he's not to worry. I hoping that I should be back shortly. Tell him that I'm awful sorry that he has to watch after Pasco and Evvy, but I gotta go. Tell him that I'm off to Nidra Island and that there's no immediate need for concern." I stared measurably at her, "You got that?" 

"Yes, sur." 

I suppose I mumbled something to her, and she questioned me something, but I must have ignored it. For, squeezing my horse slightly, I urged it to go foreword, and we were soon in a fast gallop. 

The wind blew in my face restlessly. My horse, for once, didn't object to my movements. It rode with me, running against the wind passionately. 

I felt a new sense of numbness through my body. An assassin mood had been switched on. 

Grinding my teeth, I embraced the numbing. With Sandry gone, it was one of the few things I had left. 

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_Oh la la! TENGO UN PERRO!! Oh look, I'm bilingual!!! Hehe, I crack myself up. Anyway. . . so Tris and Sandry took a vacation, got kidnapped by an evil Earl who Sandry had a meeting with that day already (oh the irony!), and Briar felt Sandry die, hence he is pissed at himself for being a wuss and not facing his feelings and is NOW off on a physcho killing rampage for the person who killed Sandry. Hm, I thought this story wasn't going to be weird. Oh well.___

_Anyway, please do review. Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing my other chapters. And look! The Blind Assassin reviewed it. . . go read her stories. Now! SKAT! Oh, and the review button, it is your friend. Isn't it pretty and colorful? Shiny button. . . you will press it. You are gettin' vwery sleepy. Anyway, if you could take 10 seconds out of your precious life and review, it would be most wonderful. MUAH! SEE YA GUYS!_

  
  
  
  



	4. Drown in Holiness: Sandry

_Disclaimer: Aren't you the lucky one? Catch a poor student writing technically illegal fanfiction? Don't you feel powerful? Well, here's one for ya: I disclaim everything. Take my original characters, I don't give a damn! HAHAHA!!! Now you can't sue me!_****

_A/n: Weirdness follows. Read a you own risk._   
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**Sandry's POV:**

There are very few people in this world that I dislike. I have found that feeling disdain for people is a waste of time and energy. Therefore, there is even fewer people that I hate. 

I hate Earl Heold. 

I'm afraid, as much I even now try to forgive, I will never let go of my utter most bitterness towards the man. Even though I know now that his actions proved, ironically, towards my advantage, I still hate the man for the torture he put us through. I've heard that fate has to put us through fire in order to refine us, but the fire burned so. It hurt so hard that we didn't think we were going to make it out alive. But we did, and when we did, we came through with scars. But the scars made us perfect. The scars wouldn't look like perfection to the casual onlookers, of course, but they showed in a more simpler way. More in way that only you, your family, your friends can see. And maybe someone who was looking for it. 

I suppose this makes very little sense and I wouldn't have answered the same way while I sat there in the dank office of Earl Heold, hearing water drip drearily, endlessly. 

Tris had at first refused to sit. She had crossed her arms across her chest, looked deathly in the direction of Earl Heold, who appraised her with a somewhat amused expression. "If you think for one second," she snapped tartly, "that I'm going to take this sitting down, your brain isn't connected tightly enough to your head." 

Already sitting, I stared furiously at Earl Heold, my lips pursed so hard I thought they might crack and bleed. His handsome face was twisted in an odd smile and he stroked his meticulously trimmed beard. 

Picking up some papers from his desk, the Earl simply said, "Please, Miss Chandler, we have very little time for frivolous arguments. I believe Her Gabriella will be here any second." 

Hearing the name, I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion. The title seemed so familiar. I interrupted Tris' opened mouth, "Her Gabriella? I believe I've heard that name before, Earl Heold." I tried to say my words with considerable boredom, as if this whole excursion was another meeting I had up at the Embassy. 

The Earl raised a curious eyebrow. "Have you now? How. . . interesting." With that, he looked back up at the fuming Tris, who looked absolutely furious. Nodding at the empty, stuffed chair next to me, the Earl drawled with a curious accent, "Now, Miss Chandler, if you'll have a seat, I can explain your predicament." 

Tris glowered for a few seconds, her arms crossed stiffly at her chest. I exchanged a look with her, watching as her eyes glittered in anger. Something in my eyes must have comforted her, because, with great displeasure, she finally flopped herself unceremoniously in the chair. "All right, buddy," she snapped, "let's get this over with." 

Earl Heold chuckled with twisted pleasure. His piercing gray eyes stared measurably at us, and I managed to stare icily back at him. Folding his hands on the table, he began, "Well, I must say that I wasn't expecting the Duchess and her magical friend to come bombarding in Duke Vedris' place." 

Tris snorted at this. 

His gray eyes glittered in strange impatience. "However, I suppose you will have to do." 

"Do for what?!" Tris interrupted, her voice sour. "What the hell are you talking about?" Her voice rose so that it echoed off the stone walls. 

The Earl shook his head mournfully, his carefully groomed hair never falling out of place. "My child, my child. . ." 

"Don't _even_ call me that," Tris growled angrily, heavily scowling. 

Raising an eyebrow, the Earl answered, "Very well, Miss Chandler." Something in his voice was reflective, as if something Tris said had been crucial. Taking a piece of blank parchment, he messily scrawled something down. And then, turning to me, he commenced, "Well, Lady Sandrilene, I'm going to ask you a rhetorical question. Please don't be offended." 

I blinked coldly before answering slowly, "Wouldn't dream of it." Then, with a quick yawn, I waved him on. 

He cleared his throat measurably, his gray eyes flickering snappily around the room. "You are aware of the 'Force of the Revolution' are you not? The great revelations dawned on Sanders of Lucania?" 

When he had asked me this, I couldn't believe that he had. I believe there was a look of surprise plastered on my face, because I could feel Tris' eyes heavy on my face, searching it. Had I heard correctly? Had he asked me the question I thought he had? 

Blinking, I eyed Earl Heold for awhile before asking dryly, "You're asking about Sanders of Lucania?" 

"Yes, Lady Sandrilene. You know about this time in history?" He was staring at me smugly, his lips turned up in a amused grin. There was an evil glint in his eyes. 

My throat suddenly felt dry and all I could manage was a weak nod. 

"Excellent!" He exclaimed, his voice suddenly cheerful. "I knew the Duke would be so good as to educate his niece about 'Force of the Revolution.' He's a smart man, Duke Vedris." With that, he stood up, his broad shoulders making him look extremely important and powerful. 

Staring blankly at him, I risked a quick glance at Tris. She was staring in confusion at me, her eyebrows knitted together tightly. She obviously had no idea about Sanders of Lucania, as she was supposed to. It was a stupid rule, as if Trisana Chandler couldn't handle the truth about the beginnings of our legacy. As if only the nobles were smart enough tot handle the truth. If anything, people like me, with weaker stomachs, shouldn't be taught such knowledge about the beginning ages. It made one's stomach roll in raw disbelief. 

From the corner of my vision, I watched as Tris licked her lips before inquiring, "What are you two talking about? Who is this Sanders of Lucania?" 

I was about to stop the conversation right there, with a cunning remark, but, unfortunately, the Duke interrupted me, "How pleasant of you to start the conversation, Trisana. I was afraid I was going to have to ask Lady Sandrilene to elaborate." He winked at me, and I wanted nothing more than to sneer in his direction. Instead, I just sent him an icy glare. 

Now that I looked back at it, I believe that if I had somehow managed to stop the conversation, the events that followed would have been stopped. There wouldn't have been such torture. However, I simply sat there stiffly, as if a strange spell had been cast over my entire body. 

Earl Heold came very close to Tris' chair, and she edged away from him like a disease. He didn't seem to notice, because he simply picked up a rock off his desk and peered into it with a mixture of nonchalant and curiosity. "It begins very much like this, Miss Chandler: There was once an evil witch who controlled much of the known world that we currently know today. Yes, that's right. And, mind you, this isn't mere fiction, this is truth. This witch was very much corrupt and ruled the lands with injustice and cruelty. There was no magic, or any that was known of. Then, one day, a young boy named Sanders of Lucania, accordingly, was given a vision, in which he was told that the magic lay within his own being, within his own soul. . ." It was here that the Earl paused considerably, raising an eyebrow at the dubious-looking Tris. "It was then that Sanders of Lucania conquered over the evil witch, established a kingdom, in which our modern society today is found upon." He turned to me. "Is this quite correct, Lady Sandrilene?" 

My eyes were glossy. Staring at him measurably, I answered in a voice that didn't sound much like my own. I was starting to find myself very tired. "That is a very condensed version, but, yes, that's correct, Earl Heold." 

"Ah!" He exclaimed, but his words seemed watery and far away. "There you have it, Miss Chandler. However, that is one version that, unfortunately, our young nobles are taught today. You see, you silly merchants can't handle the truth, so you are not told it. And the nobles today can't handle the _real _truth, so they are not even told that." 

Tris didn't vehemently object to this statement, which surprised me. Turning my head languidly, I glanced at Tris. Her eyes were half-way closed, as if she felt dragged down by some kind of spell. 

And, as I listened to the sound of the water dripping, I felt suddenly very warm and cozy sitting in the plush chair. And my eyelids felt very heavy. 

Then, unexpectedly, I felt someone's face very near mine, could almost feel their breath. "But this is the real truth, Miss Chandler and Lady Sandrilene. . . there was no evil queen. There was just a very powerful queen. There was a thing back then called holiness, when the queen ruled. Sanders of Lucania was a coward, a dirty liar, and halfwit. He couldn't face the holiness, couldn't embrace it, so he called it evil. And even though, unfortunately, he won the war against society, there still remains the queen's loyalists. And, thankfully, they have kept the truth alive." And then, in my ear: "They call themselves the 'Blaze of Gabriella.' You know them, Lady Sandrilene?" 

Then, like coming out of water, my eyes snapped open, as if I had been held underwater for way too long. Looking around the dimly lit room, I gulped frantic lungfuls of air. But I could feel it pulling again. I couldn't place my finger on what it was, but I knew very well that I needed to escape it. Looking around the room, I measured the stone cuts in the wall, and knew where I was. I was inside their headquarters. I was in the center of their organization. 

I was in the clutches of evil itself. 

When my uncle had decided to teach me about the beginning times, I had been naive. I thought of it as little more than a boring history lesson. But, as I learned about the terrible deeds, the terrible vows, the terrible battles, I could feel my heart bleeding, my innocence being drained from my inner being. 

What had I read from the book "Blaze and Force"? It was the part of churning adrenaline: 

_Out of the deafening blue,_   
_ I took the blood of the queen,_   
_and, nay!, through the stone maze I flew,_   
_ feeling the pulse and the dream._

_The death of the tiend and blood of Vasilis,_   
_ fall through the narrow breath,_   
_But they blur through the joy and the bliss,_   
_ for I know I have tasted the avoidance of death!_

Chapter 24. Line 17. I remember that certain passage as if it was burned into my memory. I could I forget? Sanders has just escape the death of the annual tiend, payment to the Gods, as he is a most eligible candidate-- noble-blood, handsome, strong willed. However, he narrowly escapes it, for he is influenced through the evils of the queen. But, his brave best friend, Vasilis, takes his place as the human tiend, giving Sanders the chance to slay the queen and end the dynasty of holiness. 

Although it does seem a bit like a story, it was very true. And it was then, connecting the stone walls, the stories that the Earl told us, and the poem together, that I realized why I was here. 

Immediately, a madness filled my entire being. Writing under a silent clutch, I tried to call out: _Briar! Oh Gods, Briar! _ The wall slammed painfully in my ears, and it felt as if my brain burned of fire, but I ignored the pain. 

_Briar, answer me! Oh god, don't come get me! Please, stay with Uncle. Don't come near!_ I could only guees what they would do if they managed to get Briar within their clutches. Get a young man, full mage, mature within their tunnels of rock.   
  
The wall just stared at me blankly, towering over my head, not allowing passage. There was no way to climb over, to dig under, to walk around. There was just infinite. . . death, loneliness, and holiness. 

A cold hand rested on my shoulder and I shrugged it off furiously, thinking it to be Earl Heold. But, as soon as it clenched my shoulder, the complete, utter sleepiness pervaded my body. The hand was so soft, so sweet, so completely feminine. 

"Ah, Earl Heold," The person who owned the hand said, "This one knows of Us." 

"Yes, a noble girl. Pretty little thing, isn't she?" 

"No, she isn't pretty. She is quite beautiful. There are very few young woman who remain as pure as this one," The voice lulled, and her voice was so soft, I wanted nothing more than to crawl into her voice and sleep there. 

"So, is she the one?" Earl Heold asked. Sometime while I was straining against the sleepiness, the person must have come in. I hadn't noticed. 

The voice paused thoughtfully. "What about this other woman? She is quite lovely also. What do we know of her?" 

"Oh, that one. Merchant child. Parents didn't want her; got stuck in one of those damned magical villages. Friend of Lady Sandrilene." 

It took most of my energy, but I managed to turn my head to the side to glance at Tris. She was slumped over in her chair, as sleepy as I, but something glittered in her eyes. Something like utter determination. She stared at them with ferocious eyes, defiant and ugly. Her face looked almost painful, as if she was torn between getting up and falling asleep. 

And then I saw the woman. She was standing next to Earl Heold, her long white robes flowing over her entire body. Black spiral curls of hair fell down her back elegantly and a crown of fresh flowers adorned her head. Her face was delicate and soft as she peered down from Tris. If it hadn't been for two things, I would have instantly loved her as a Savior. 

I knew who she was. There is no other human being that can be mistaken for her. You knew her once you see her. I suppose if you had never even heard of her, you would know her name. It was Her Gabriella. 

Also, it was her eyes. Steel. Cold. Purely evil. 

She peered at Tris with cruelty that I could not explain to someone. He eyes had the same color as the Earl's, but they shone with something that was not earthly. Something ethereal. Something holy. 

Then, with slim, delicate fingers, she touched her finger tips to Tris' temples. There was a brief struggle between the woman and Tris, but in the end, the woman won. Her evil eyes fluttered shut for instant before they flew open. She drew her hands away before staring thoughtfully at Tris. And then, turning to me, I watched as she lifted her hands and brought then down on my temple. 

It was as if she had knocked me unconscious. It was much like Earl Heold's magical cloth, except the images that passed my mind weren't terrible. They were actually quite lovely. 

I saw images of my Uncle, giving me a pleasant smile, I saw days when me and Daja lay on the grass outside and watched the clouds pass overhead, I saw the days when Tris and I snuck out of Discipline, when we were supposed to be doing chores, and go for a swim in the ocean. I saw images of the midwinter festival when Briar danced with me. I could feel his arm around my waist, his eyes peering down on mine, his crooked smile. . . 

Suddenly, tears invaded my eyes and something caught in my throat. 

Then, the images were gone. I felt the woman's touch withdraw, and I heard her suck in a lungful of air. Eyes fluttering open, I managed to look up at Earl Heold and the woman. 

"What do you see, My Lady?" Earl Heold asked anxiously, his hands placed behind his back. 

The woman shook her head, before running a delicate hand through her hair. "There is much love in this young woman's mind. There are friends, there is family, there is a man that she loves. . ." 

"In love with this young man?" 

Hearing what they were saying, I shook my head. "No love, no love," I murmured madly. They ignored me. 

"Yes. Very passionate love. It is very tempting to take her. She is, after all, all that the Gods want-- beautiful, smart, of noble-blood, hard to break. However. . ." the woman turned to Tris, ". . . the Gods want this one. She is the one." 

The Earl scrunched his eyebrows together before shrugging. "Very well. I will not question the Gods. But--" he turned to the woman, "--why My Lady?" 

The woman, eyeing him with her evil eyes, said slowly, "This young merchant woman has much to be broken of. She has felt very little of the loves. There is much bitterness in her heart. Much more bitterness in her heart than love in the Lady Sandrilene's." 

Earl Heold laughed. "The child _is _cranky." 

"No, not like that, Earl Heold." The woman shook her head, her beautiful curls falling in front of her chilly eyes. "The child is actually very much a woman. She had bloomed, and therefore is harder to break than the cheerful spirit. She will be a wonderful tiend, even though she isn't a male. You_ had _promised me a male." 

"Yes, well, Duke Vedris did not come. His niece came instead." 

It was then that all the events that were swirling around me made sense. Somehow, I managed to stand up, even though I thought I might pass out. Looking around the room crazily, I managed to cry out again: _Briar! Get help, but don't come near here! Get Rosethorn or Lark! Niko! Anyone_! 

The wall stared at me darkly. I could hear the Earl chuckle before scolding, "Now, now, you know better, Lady Sandrilene. Down here, there is the real truth. We will see no magic, do no magic, and speak no magic here." 

I was trying to gulp air, but the holiness pressed in on me. The woman touched my head lightly before stating softly, "I can use this one. There is no need to kill her. She will do well with the other maidens. We might even find her a husband. . . she is very beautiful." 

In the corner of my eye, I saw the Earl shrug. "Very well. What about this boy she is in love with. . ." 

"It is a man she in love with, Earl Heold." 

"Yes, yes, of course," then, with impatience, "she managed to contact him before I used the cloth. Do you believe he will come?" 

The woman didn't say anything for awhile, while I writhed under her grasp. Then, slowly, "I believe he will, Earl Heold. I believe he will." Then, with a simply tug of her hand, the woman willed me foreword. "Out you go, Lady. We will lead further into the tunnels." She handed me to Earl Heold, who I tried to edge away from, but the holiness was too much for me. I simply crumpled tiredly. 

She reached her hand out towards Tris, who looked at it, her eyes glittering in ferocity. Even though I was looking at her with foggy vision, I could tell there was an internal struggle going on between the woman and Tris. And, for the first time, the woman won. After a minute or two of mental battle, Tris jerkily reached out and touched the woman's hand. Almost instantly, she was asleep, or unconscious, I couldn't tell which. 

Seeing Tris fall like that much have awaken me from my deep, almost drunken slumber. Instantly, I was well aware of where I was and what they were doing. I knew what they would do with me. I knew what would happen to Tris. And it terrified me. And it made me outraged. 

I needed to take action. But I was afraid 

Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I demanded, my voice dangerously low as I stared lethally at the woman,"You will let us go this instant." She looked up at me in surprise, and I could see in her evil gray eyes that there was an element of fear there. But, as soon as it appeared, it disappeared. Now, there was an element of amusement. The woman clapped her hands, and two more woman entered the room on command, picking up Tris and then making towards the door. 

I watched this happen as almost in slow motion. There was new energy coursing through my brain, but my body still felt completely lethargic. Even though my legs felt like lead, I managed to reach out towards Tris. For a second, I felt my fingers touch hers, but, as quickly as I lashed out, the Earl grabbed me around the waist, holding me back. 

Screaming, I yelled at Tris, writing in Earl Heold's grasp, "Don't go Tris! Wake up, you silly girl! Oh, _let me go_!" I bit his hand defiantly, but he simply cursed at me and held tight. 

The woman walked up to me slowly, watched me with her terrible eyes before touching my eyelids and saying, "Go to sleep, beautiful one. What you used to know was but a lie. This is the real truth, and you shall awaken to it." 

As she touched my eyes, I felt instantly sleepier, and I felt myself sag in the Earl's grasp. Thoughts pounded through my skull, as I watched Tris be taken away. All I could think right then was the verse in the book "Blaze and Force", Chapter 13, verse 11: 

_And, lo!, holy is that dank, dreary land,_   
_ where them in it dwell,_   
_Stone, tissue, sinew is very wonderfully grand,_   
_ but compared them that fell,_   
_To the years that they pay,_   
_ the tiend to the holiness,_   
_for they value those to mold like clay,_   
_ to pound, muddle, and press._

I knew then that Tris and I were in grave danger. I knew what they would do to her. I knew the tiend. All I could think of was the illustrations in the book "Blaze and Force." I remembered the young man standing next to a cliff, glancing down it, a spell cast over his brain. I remember the people's outstretched hands, motioning him off the cliff. I remember the subtitle under the picture. It read, "The giving of the tiend." 

Human sacrifice. Once every 12 years. Twelve years must be coming to a close. And Tris was about to stand over a cliff, look down it, before taking a leap. 

The woman mumbled, as I silently slipped away, "I am real. I am the truth." 

I almost believed, but then something pervaded my vision. Briar. His crooked smile. His smell. The way his collar was always upturned. I must live for that. And Tris. Of course, she mustn't take place in this. She couldn't. She wouldn't as long as I lived. And dear Uncle. Pasco, how could I forget? And Daja. Dearest Daja. 

Shaking my head, I managed a weak whisper, "There is no truth but love. Love is the only truth." 

It was then that I lost consciousness.   
  
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**_AUTHOR NOTES ARE RECOMMENDED BY THE GENERAL SURGEON FOR CONFUSION AND BOREDOM!:_**

_People seem to be losing consciousness like crazy, eh? Okay, so this is a weird story. Damn. . . I was hoping that it wouldn't be. Oh well. Hm, is anyone seriously confused? I think I would be. Let me try to condense the plot up to now: Sandry and Tris went to Nidra Island for vacation and political junk, Briar stayed at Emelan to babysit, and then things went downhill. This little kid stole Sandry's necklace (he works for the Earl), made it so that Tris and Sandry got stuck in this ancient cult who used to rule the world. They give human sacrifice every 12 years. Tris is the sacrifice. MWHAHA! Anyway, Briar thinks Sandry is dead, is going to murder whoever canned her, and isn't thinking rationally. Yep, that's about it so far. More romance, more Daja in next chapter. Poor Daja. . . stuck in the Namorn Empire sucks a big one right now._ _The holiness is a kind of unrefined magic that we'll learn more about in later chapters. Half to keep you in suspense, and half cause I still don't know how the hell I'm going to explain it. If you're still confused, you can e-mail me and I'll be more than glad to go into further explanation._

_Okay, thanks a billion for people who reviewed. It is very much appreciated. I LUV REVIEWS. But, wouldn't you love to review again? Wouldn't that be fun? Well, no one's stopping you! Until next time folks!_


	5. Starting To Play: Briar

_Disclaimer: Do not sue me, for I have the power to kill a yak from two-hundred yards away. With mind bullets. It's called telekinesis. Also, I don't make any money. In this story or elsewhere. Don't sue me.___

_Author notes: This story is rated PG13 for a reason. Cursing is prevelant in this chapter. Don't say I didn't warn you._   
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**Briar's POV:**

When I landed on the docking bay for Nidra Island, my brain was still numb, and my fingers were clenched so tightly, they were pale from lack of blood. 

The whole dock smelled of rotting fish and nose-curling spices. Looking around the wooden planks, I glanced back at the boat I had just come off of. It looked pitiful against the background of grand ships behind it, which stared down at the measly boat as if it were an oddity. The vessel I just came off of was just a bit bigger than a local fishing boat, swaying in the tiniest wave. I had ignored the incredible sea-sickness that washed through my stomach. I was so numb to everything, I hardly noticed pain. 

In fact, I embraced pain now. It was one of the few emotions I had now. 

I knew I only had money on me, hadn't bothered to pack bags. For some strange reason, I had several dinari in my pockets, and I packed quite a bit of money in my saddlebags. And, as I stood on the dock, sun beating on my head, I knew that the boat ride would cost me little, if anything at all. 

A voice suddenly sounded behind me, "Whatcha gonna do now, sonny?" 

Sighing, I shook my head before unclenching my hand and running it through my dirty hair. Sniffing the warm Nidran air, I turned to look at the person who owned the voice. "I could actually use a bath." 

"Eh, you're tellin' me," the person said teasingly. "I hadda smell ya all the way here." 

For the first time in a what felt like forever, I gave a weak grin. "Ah, shut-up, Noc. You ain't any better." I eyed the man on the small boat, who was standing crookedly, giving me a large smile. His teeth were yellow and crooked, but there was something so friendly about it, that you couldn't help but be somewhat cheerful in his presence. He wasn't a handsome man now, but he once had been, or at least from what I had heard, he once had been. 

I don't remember what I had done for Noc. It must have been something large, because when I had asked him for a favor at the dock in Emelan, he didn't even hesitate when raising the anchor. I believe it had something to do with his lame leg; I believe I managed to save it from being completely amputated. Standing there, feeling the heat beat on my body, I couldn't remember. And, further more, I didn't really care at the moment. 

Scratching my head roughly, I looked around the landscape. We were at the foot of a steep ravine, a sharp drop-off that lowered into the ocean. At the top of the cliff, I could hear the shouts of towns people, hear the bleating of animals, smell the smells of the marketplace. I had never been to Nidra Island, but I knew who I must look for. As always, I had connections, and they would never fail me. 

At that moment, I was fed up with failure. I had failed myself. Failed Sandry. 

Looking back up at Noc, I squinted against the sharp Nidran sun before asking, "Hey, Noc, you've been to Nidra Island before. Haven't you?" 

The older man looked up, squinting also. "Sure 'ave, sonny." 

I shook my head. Running my tongue over my teeth, I suddenly noticed how thirsty I was. Fortunately, on the way to Nidra Island, the weather had been good, and it had only taken us a day and half to reach the coast. I didn't eat or drink the entire time. Locking myself in the main hold, I had set about my plans, my contacts. My mind had been like a machine, turning and cranking mercilessly, not bothering to stop for anything. And now, I realized how much my body yearned for food. And water. And some kind of bath. 

Swallowing thickly, I blinked at Noc. "Any idea where I can get a good bath?" 

Laughing, Noc shook his head. "Goin' soft, eh? Goghta 'ave your baths?" I gave him a look, which he merely waved a hand at. "Next block, sonny. 'Er should be a place to wash up. Not the cleanist' place, but nevertheless, it got fresh water." 

I glanced up the ravine and then at the flight of stairs to get to the top, where the sounds and smells were coming from. There must have been at least five hundred stairs. Raising an eyebrow, I groaned. 

Noc heard my reaction and laughed. "I would get goin' now, if it was me," he remarked this while lowering the plank. Hobbling across it, he reached me, clamped a calloused hand on my shoulder before saying, low this time, "You just be careful, alrighty?" 

Feeling something soften in my heart to the old man's touch, I pursed my lips. I needed to keep my bitterness. It was the only thing to live for. Nodding, I turned to Noc before asking stiffly, "How much do I owe you, Noc?" 

He stared at me as if I asked him where babies came from. "Owe me?" Shaking his head defiantly, Noc clicked his tongue on the roof of his mouth. "Ya don't owe me a cent, sonny." I was about to object to this, but he raised a hand in interruption. "It's the least I can do since you saved me little one's and meself from the awful storm." 

So that's what I had accomplished. I had saved Noc and his children from inevitable death. Smiling at the irony, I contemplated my plans for future days. Here I had saved three lives while I was off to destroy another. 

Smiling a little more cheerfully, I stuck out a hand for Noc to shake. "Thanks a ton, Noc ol' buddy. I appreciate it." Noc took my hand before shaking it vigorously. Then, giving him a playful salute, I started walking towards the seemingly never-ending stairs. 

My footsteps were heavy on the stone walk. The heat beat on my head. My eyes were set purposefully ahead. . . 

"Hey, sonny!" Noc called out. I turned sharp on my heel and raised an questioning eyebrow. He gave me a suspicious stare, mixed with concern, before saying slowly, "You take care of yourself, ya hear? The Police 'ere are mighty tough; Don't ya be gettin' into trouble." 

Blinking, I stared at him for a few mere seconds. Then, a small weak grin spread on my face. "Wouldn't dream of it, Noc," I replied, hoping I sounded somewhat convincing. 

I'm sure I managed a small case for my innocence, for Noc gave me a smile, his teeth showing, before waving a teasing hand in my direction, "Ah, get outa here, boy." With that, he gave me a laugh. 

Smiling crookedly, I offered a wave good-bye before turning on my heel, glancing at the staircase before taking my first step up. By the third step, I had forgotten to smile.   


------------------------------------ 

I still had wet hair from my bath when I entered The Dishonest Lawyer Tavern, which was a large building by Tavern measures. The large building was completely white washed while large cotton cloths covered over the outside eating areas. It wasn't quite evening yet, but the hot afternoon sun hung low in the horizon and there was a opalescent color swimming on the clouds low in the sky. 

I could hear the sound of stringed instruments coming from inside the tavern, slightly exotic and off tuned to my ear. I could hear people inside clapping, raising their voices to the music in a tongue I could barely make out. So, with slight hesitation and dark eyes, I slowly sat down on one of the chairs outside. 

There was a few people outside with me, all of them looking like foreigners. A plump older man sat at the table adjacent next to me, obviously trying to get himself drunk. There was a liquor bottle sitting on the table and several shot glasses discarded sloppily. Leaning my head back for a better angle, I saw the old man close his eyes wearily, looking extremely tired before taking a quivering breath. He must of held it for a number of seconds, because when he finally exhaled, it sounded strikingly like a large beast. I squinted my eyes, waiting for him to breath again. After about a minute, he didn't breath. Blinking in surprise, I craned my head back further. 

Was he. . . ? 

A flash of something green and brown blurred by the side of my vision. Quickly, I averted my vision from the older man towards the colors that had just passed by me. Looking out in the streets, I saw that it was practically deserted except for a lone beggar and rather. . . scantily dressed female. And they both were not wearing green or brown. 

Glancing around my surroundings, something eerie crept up my back, chilly and dark. I knew that feeling. Not only had I felt it back when I was young and on the streets, but I had felt it at the baths too. It had come when I was running a towel through my wet hair. I had felt it crawling up by back. 

I was being followed. 

Somebody spoke next to me, snapping me out of thoughts. Blinking in surprise, I turned quickly to look for the voice. Standing quite cockily was a young woman, about my age. She chewed lightly on piece of sugar cane, as I had noticed it was the style to do so in Nidra Island. Her skirts were purposely short and her long hair looked like it had been fried in the hot sun. But, nevertheless, she was quite beautiful. In an instant, I knew who she was. And nobody could forget her face, with her high cheekbones, coppery skin, and dangerously sharp eyes. 

Aida. Daughter of the Former Thief Lord at Hajra. 

Smiling crookedly at her, I started, "Howya doin' Aida?" The woman's eyes widened considerably and she looked at me in surprise. "How's life treatin'' ya?" 

She looked at me closer, her clear eyes squinted in disbelief. I could smell the sweetness of the sugar cane radiating off of her. Reeling her head back, she started very slowly, "Roach? That you?" 

Putting a finger to my lips, I made a shushing noise. "Not around here, Aida. Not that gods-blasted name." 

She suddenly gave me a stare before planting a hand on her hips. "Don't play that dumb mage stuff with me, Roach. I know ya gotta new name or something." Then, with a slight smile, she gave me a playful punch in the arm. "But ya always gonna be Roach to me, boy." 

I rolled my eyes, a small smile flipping up on my face. "I'm not really a boy anymore, either, Aida." 

"Damn right you aren't," she said quickly before she gave me a sly look. Cocking her hip, she drawled mischievously, "So, Roach, ya got a girlfriend or something?" She chewed viciously on her sugar cane, her eyes glittering. 

The smile on my face instantly disappeared. Suddenly, all the good memories of me and Aida sneaking fruit and purses, back when we were young and on the streets, washed away and was replaced by the thought of what I had to do. Why I was here on Nidra Island. 

Frowning, I shook my head. "No, Aida, I don't have a girlfriend," then, with a little bit of bitterness, "or something." I averted my eyes up to her, saw something in her face change and the smile disintegrate. We both exchanged looks. 

She knew what my look meant. Immediately, she shook her head before snapping quickly and quietly, "I'll gonna get my mother." Turning on her heel, she vanished inside the tavern, into the noise and bustle. A glass broke inside. A man cursed. And then a woman cursed. 

I shook my head quietly to myself in slight disbelief. I knew that husky voice. Could recognize it from a mile away. 

It was Fayola. Former Thief Lord of Hajra. Current owner of The Dishonest Lawyer Tavern in Nidra Island. . . along with an extra business on the side, of course. 

The first thing I saw of her was the side, long and slender as always, but quick and nimble, able to break a man's bones in a matter of seconds. She was as tough as nails, as she needed to be. I could never forget the bruise she gave me from trying to steal an apple from Aida's loot. I couldn't sit for nearly a week. 

Her voice suddenly rose and she pointed an accusing finger at an unknown person. "Ya better get the hell outa my tavern by the time I count to ten buster, or I'll call the goddamn police. Don't think for a second that I won't." Someone yelled back at her in the Nidran language. Then, reaching down in her throat, she managed to spit angrily at him. "When I come back, you dirty bastard, you're gonna regret it. Did you know you got three bones in your ear? Did ya know I could break them all? And every other goddamn bone in your body?" Another round of cursing before she threw her hands up, turning to me. 

Seeing me, she smiled. 

I managed a crooked smile back. 

"Whatta ya doin' here, you son of a bitch?" She asked huskily, her voice obviously teasing. She folded her hands across her chest before she started to walk to the table I sat at. 

She didn't remind me of the dangerous Thief Lord I used to know. That person was frightening, nimble, beautiful, magical in a sense. This woman here was still had a magical aura to her, but she looked somewhat tired, bleaker eyes and all. And even though she could still be considered extremely beautiful, she looked somewhat disturbingly. . . old. 

"Whatcha staring at?" She asked of me before I blinked. 

A weak grin spread across my face. "It's good to see ya again, Fayola." 

The old woman snorted, but a large grin was on her face. Looking down in her lap, she opened a purse that was attached to the belt of her skirts. Pulling out a large stick of sugar cane, she slapped it in her mouth before chewing the end vigorously. Looking back up, she eyed me teasingly. "So, it's good to see me, eh?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." 

She shook her head, a smile on her face. "You're a goddamn liar, Roach." It was then that she stopped before adding, more slyly, "Or should I say. . .Briar, now." 

An unexpected blush crept on my face. Swallowing thickly, I gave a mere shrug. "What? You hate it or something?" 

Fayola took the sugar cane out of her mouth, appraising me with her sharp eyes. The same sharp eyes of Aida. "It ain't the name I gave you, Roach." 

I looked off the side where the old man was sitting. Or rather, lying. A dribble of spit was now gathered at the corner of his mouth. Raising my upper lip, I answered Fayola, "That was a long time, Fayola. You ain't the Thief Lord anymore." 

"Ha!" She shouted so loud that I nearly jumped in my chair. "What a goddamn shame for me," she deadpanned before continuing, "I resigned just in time for the new Thief Lord to be caught by the Police. He didn't even get to whistle a tune before they hung him." 

My eyes snapped back up to her. Regarding her curiously, I raised an eyebrow. "You mean the old gang is no more?" 

Her eyes glittered almost in anger before they calmed. "That's what I mean. The bags didn't like getting their lunch money stolen. They even got so pissed that they had four of my ol' boys killed for it. And instead of killing the girls, they just decided to violate them, get them pregnant, and then accuse them of being whores." 

Her words took awhile to sink in, for I simply sat there, blinking blankly. From what I heard, my old gang was still going strong, a new Thief Lord, but nevertheless, still alive and healthy. Of course, these were from some of my less reliable contacts. Running a hesitant tongue over my teeth, I simply nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that Fayola." 

She simply shrugged before chewing vigorously on her sugar cane. "It's over now," she stated casually before taking the sugar cane out of her mouth and coming closer to my face. "But, from what I understand, you need some help." Giving me a sly wink, she leaned in even closer, "Who you want to knock over?" 

Staring measurably at her, the thoughts of a few days ago flooded through my head. The call, the jarring feeling, the piercing, my heart feeling like it was bleeding. The numbing. Looking her straight in the eye, I asked slowly and not-so-quietly, "Whatta ya know about the bags in this city?" 

Fayola raised an eyebrow. "What kind of bag do you want? Stiffs, merchants, dedicates. . .?" 

"Nobles. Stiffs." 

Giving me an appraising stare, Fayola eased back in her chair, her sugar cane in between her fingers. "Nobles, eh? Well, what exactly do you want to know about them? There crawling Nidra, I'll tell you that much." She gave a small chuckle before sticking the sugar cane back in her mouth. With her mouth half open, she added, "All of them either stay in the ritzy hotels or the Embassy. . ." 

"Embassy?" I asked before placing my hands on the table and folding them. "You got any records of the people that come in and out of there?" 

Her sharp eyes glittered. "Watch 'em like hawks." Then, chewing slowly, she looked intensely at me. "What's going on, Roach? You wanna to knock over some Stiff?" 

"Maybe," I said blankly, leaving her to guess, also to leave that question alone. 

Fayola licked her lips before shrugging. "Always the stubborn one, you were." She laughed. "Well, I suppose it's good you've stuck to that. So, what exactly do you want to know about the stiffs? They ain't too much of an interesting subject." 

I blinked. Interesting? How about fascinating. And I was too stupid to realize that. 

"Know anything about Sandrilene fa Toren?" I asked, trying to act casual, but failing miserably. My eyes were darting everywhere except Fayola. 

She saw this immediately and started to burst out into laughter. "What happened? Bitch cheat on you?" She asked this without intention to hurt, but as she said it, I felt anger rise warm in my cheeks. 

"No. She didn't cheat on me," I remarked coldly. "And she isn't my girlfriend. And she ain't no bitch." I eyed her icily, feeling suddenly cheeky. 

Her laughter was subsided by my stare, but a large smile on her face. "Yeah, I know about her." Then, with slyness, " Pretty little thing, she is." She laughed at my expression before continuing, "Anyway, she checked in about a week ago. Had several meetings with some dead beats, mostly about that law they're going to enact. . ." 

I eyed her with sudden interest. "What law?" 

She shrugged. "Don't know that full details, boy, but it's something about banning cults. Not just any cults, but the dangerous ones. Ya know, the one's that cut up human livers, fry them and then eat them?" 

Raising my lip up, I stared at her. "No, not exactly. . ." 

"Well," she interrupted, her mouth suddenly moving fast, "they're out there. She came with a Tris girl, merchant or something. . ." 

Tris. Eyes opened wide, I suddenly remembered. How could I have forgotten? Cursing under my breath, I knew why. However, I was too involved in Fayola's speech to confront it. I listened, my eyebrows painfully scrunched together. 

"Last my contacts saw her, she was in the marketplace. This happened three days ago." She stopped there, her eyes suddenly averting to her lap. Then, turning around, she yelled to someone in the Tavern. "Hey, Arlan, get me and the boy here two ales." 

A scruffy young man came out of the tavern carrying two large overflowing pints of ales. Placing them messily on the table, Fayola waved him away before turning back to me. "Take a drink, Roach. You're goin' want more by the time I get finished." 

Staring at her skeptically, I picked up my pint hesitantly before taking a large swig. Then, swallowing the cold, bitter ale, I asked slowly, "What's going on, Fayola?" 

She looked suddenly very anxious. Sighing, she opened her mouth and said, "I don't like bein' the one with the bad news, boy, but she disappeared at the marketplace. Like magic, she's gone." 

Taking another swig of my drink, I nodded. "I know, Fayola," I stated matter-of-factly before looking up from my drink and at her. Her eyebrows were scrunched together, her lips pursed together, her eyes glittering. 

We stared at each other for quite awhile before she shook her head slowly. "You know she might be dead, this young woman?" 

"She_ is _dead." 

Another nod. Sucking in a lungful of air, Fayola's husky grin was wiped from her face and this time, to my utmost surprise, there was an air of seriousness, professionalism about her. Not the kind I had seen on her in the streets, but a different kind. A very different kind. 

She interrupted my thoughts. "I'm guessin' you want as much information as possible about who did her in?" I didn't respond, but she seemed to understand my silent answer. "all right then. Here ya go, boy: Sandrilene fa Toren is known throughout Nidra Island. Just say that her Uncle has financially helped some people get off the ground here. Duke Vedris is a goddamn idol for the people. He was supposed to come into town for a conference these two weeks, but his niece came instead. Many Dukes, Earls, Barons, stiffs in general, scheduled private meetings with Sandrilene. The meeting she was going to attend next was with a man named Earl Heold. Not a big deal you ask? Ah, but it is my boy." It was here she paused and switched her sugar cane to the other side of her mouth. "You see, he's involved with this cult called Blaze of Gabrielle. Don't know what the hell they're about, but they're one of the cults that were about to become illegal. I'm guessin' Earl Heold got pissed and made Sandrilene. . . disappear, if ya know what I mean." 

I listened to all this nonchalant, my arms crossed stiffly across my chest. When Fayola had finished, I took a drink of the ale. "Where does this Earl live?" 

"That's another problem. He disappeared the same day of Sandrilene. We can only guess he's with this cult of his." 

I shook my head, thinking hard. So, if Fayola was telling the truth, which she was, I needed to track down the location of this cult. "Any idea where I might find this cult?" 

Fayola shrugged before taking a drink too. "A few clues, but not much. A few records of witnesses say that they know where it is. Most of them are half-mad though. A few witnesses say that they saw the Lady Sandrilene round into a alleyway on the west side of the market before she disappeared." 

I raised an eyebrow. "What about these people who claim they know where this cult is?" 

"Ah, nothing much. Like I said, most of them are either crazy or senile. Speak in riddles and idiotic shit like that." Fayola was watching me with her hawk like eyes. "Whatcha plannin' on doing, Roach?" 

Staring deeply into my ale, I watched as the light brown liquid swirled around the mug languidly. An aqua blue from the sunset reflected off of the ale, making me think. Think hard. 

And for the first time in a while, feel hard. 

Light brown hair, always done up in the braids. There was always that one piece of hair, though, that escaped the clutches of her nimble fingers. I'd always tease her about it too. Glittering eyes, a mix between lavender and blue. Something inside of me flamed, tearing away at the hardened bitterness in my heart. I smiled weakly, feeling the corner of my eyes burn with hot tears. 

"Hey, Roach!" Fayola suddenly cut through my thoughts. Quickly, I looked up in surprise, managing to blink away my tears. Leaning back in her chair, she appraised my expression before offering, with a lop-sided smile, "Don't be gettin' yourself killed." 

Managing a cocky grin, I shrugged. "I'll try not too." With that, I stood up before reaching deep inside my pockets. Pulling out a few coins, I jingled them on the table. "Thanks, Fayola. I can't tell ya how much you've done." 

She shook her head before saying, "Good to see you, Roach. Can't say that a day doesn't go by that I don't think of the old gang. We were a bunch of little hell-raisers, weren't we?" 

Simply nodding, I offered a chuckle. "Sure were, sure were." Then, sticking my hand out to her, I said, "See ya around?" 

Fayola grinned toothily. "See ya around, Roach" She took my hand and shook it, not letting go, before adding, "Is she worth it?" 

Looking up in surprise, I appraised Fayola. Something in her face was genuine, concerned. Time had taken it's toll on her once excruciating beautiful face. Wrinkles were in the place of dimples, leathery skin where a tan once used to be. But, nevertheless, I couldn't think of something more lovely right then than Fayola's truly honest face. Smiling crookedly, I shook my head. "Yeah. She is." 

Withdrawing my hand, I suddenly realized that Fayola had place something in my hand while we shook hands. Blinking, I glanced down at my opened hand. Inside it looked like a necklace, with a long golden chain and a gold pendent which had some sort with rough engravings around the perimeter of it. Bringing it closer to my face, I managed to make out: 

_Behind the darkened hall,_   
_ with the eyes so bright,_   
_There shall be a man's call,_   
_ and a garden shall be in sight._   
_Oh, down the lonesome stairs,_   
_ hurry, in case you loose will,_   
_past the dead and their glares,_   
_ you will reach the Blaze Hill._

Reeling back, I squinted at the inscription. It made no sense. It couldn't mean anything. But, darkened hall? And Blaze? I could have sworn those words had come into Fayola's conversation. Perhaps a hint? 

I quickly looked up, about to ask Fayola a question. However, when I stared up at where she once had been, she was gone. And the old man also, who had been in a drunken coma. I looked around the outside eating area, not seeing anyone. 

Fayola was gone, slipped into the darkness. Shaking my head, I convinced myself that I should have thought just as much. So, with the engraving clenched into my hand, I walked out past the tavern, into the streets of Nidra. The west side of the market? I started my pace westward. 

I had walked quite a ways when I felt that feeling again. It crept up on me like a stalking cat, chilly. Shivering against my will, I increased my pace. The feeling still followed me like a dog nipping at my heels. I rounded around a corner. It still followed. 

Then, turning on my heel, I faced whatever was behind me. Eyes wide, staring like madman, I growled darkly, "Who's there?" 

In front of me was a dark figure, built solidly but obviously feminine. They were standing in the shadows of a building so I couldn't quite make out their face. They were silent before they spoke, voice guttural, "Hello, Briar." It was then that they took a step foreword, into the light. Dark eyes, dark skin and a twisted smile greeted me. 

I blinked in surprise. Then, with raised eyebrows, I managed to exclaim, "Daja?!" 

Her smile increased bitterly. "You're not the only one who felt them die," She stated bitingly, but her voice was dangerously low. "Tris is gone too." 

I swallowed thickly, still in half disbelief. 

She blinked at me before sighing. "In case you're wondering, I've been following you all day. I was going to approach you at the baths, but you had a muderous look in you're eye." Taking a step closer, I could see a dangerous clint in her eye also. Then, with extreme casualty, she asked, "So, are you going to kill him? Earl Heold?" 

Giving her a once-over, I said coldly, "Sure am. And then, after I kill him," I paused and, with a bit of twisted humor, "then you can go to work on him." 

Daja laughed, but her laugh sounded hollow. It was then that I realized that she had felt it too. The emptiness, the pain, the splitting of your soul. 

And then I realized that I still had Daja. I still had something, someone. 

"So," Daja said, cutting into my thoughts, "why didn't you tell her?" 

I stared at her. Shaking me head, I ran a shaky hand through my hair. "Let's go," I stated before walking heavily westward. 

The first noise that greeted my ears was the click of Daja's staff. I smiled before I felt someone take my hand and squeeze it reassuringly. 

Looking down at her, Daja's face was empathetic, her eyes brimming with tears. I managed a crooked grin before answering, "Don't know what we have until it they're gone, eh?" 

Daja, eyes still watery, nodded before blinking tears away and stiffly adjusting her chin. A coldness came upon her, and immediately I knew what kind of aura I had been sending people these past few days. 

And, with mutual understanding, we walked towards the west side of the marketplace.   


___________________________________________ 

_Well, life's a bitch, ain't it? My life has taken some weird twists lately, so that's why this chapter a little late. I'm sorry. If you're confused with this story, feel free to e-mail me. I'll do my best to explain. Lady Sandrilene, I'm really sorry I haven't written you back lately. I will get around to it. It's just that I'm slightly depressed and stuff. But I shall live. Afterall, life is a gift. I think._

_Anyways, who wants to review? PWEASE? It would cheer me up. I know you want to. Go right ahead, my jolly ol' fellow (or lady). The review button is looking rather lovely today, isn't it?_

  
  
  



	6. Corridor of Freedom: Sandry

_Disclaimer: Not Tammy. Capesh? (---- Did I spell it right?)_   
**___________________________________________******

**Sandry's POV:**

I don't know when I finally gained back my consciousness. All I could remember was feeling warm and comfortable, piled underneath soft blankets, laying on top of a plush mattress. For a few seconds, I was almost sure that I was back at the Citadel in Emelan, about to wake up to my room overlooking the verandah and gardens. There, I would stretch out of my bedcoverings before strolling over to the windows, glancing out them. From my room, I could see Briar stooped over the flowers, pruning and weeding. I would, of course, chuckle lightly at his figure that was half-emersed in a budding bush before reemerging, twigs stuck in his mop of black hair. 

Throwing open my windows, I would let them clash against the stone walls. Briar would look up at me, his eyes squinted against the early morning sun. Leaning my elbows on the window sill, my voice would call out to him mockingly, "Hey there, handsome! I say, is the bush-look quite in fashion for the hair?" 

A crooked smile would form on his face. "Ha ha, very funny, Duchess." Then, running a hand through his tangled mass of hair, he would command, "Now that you've woken up, you can help me weed _your _garden! And then, after that, we can weed, and weed, and weed, and weed. . ." 

Rolling my eyes, I would slam my window in his mid-sentence before falling back on my bed. Smiling at my ceiling, I would always find myself giggling sillily, and then suddenly catch myself mid-thought. Then, I would frown before putting on my simple brown wincey dress to help Briar weed the garden, like a sensible friend should do. 

But, this time, I didn't wake to my room with Briar working out in the rose garden. This time, when my eyes fluttered open, I felt my breath catch in my throat. 

I was surrounded by thick walls of stone, in a room larger than the Citadel's ballroom. In the middle was a dining table, large enough to seat a crowd of twenty. However, around the table, there were large canopy beds, wide enough to fit a family in them. Draping around the bed were silk curtains, transparent and flowing. The bed itself was made of dark mahogany, stained until it was nearly black. And the blankets were thick and velvety, with yellow linen sheets, the kind that rustled every time you moved. I noticed that people were laying in these beds, all woman, oddly silent even for sleep. 

And I was laying on one of those beds. 

Sitting up quickly, I looked around the room in alert surprise, not quite sure why I was there and where I was. Shoving the rich blanket off, I swung my feet around the bed so that they hung over the edge. 

Staring wildly around the room, I glanced at my surroundings. All around me there was stone. The floors were stone, with the exception of a intricately woven rug that was at the foot of every bed. The walls were blank and barren, staring down at me coldly. It was then that I remembered everything; The walls, the loneliness, Earl Heold, Her Gabriella, the holiness. 

I ground my teeth in agony. 

Sighing darkly, I shook my head, which felt like it had a cloud floating around it. Coherent thoughts were extremely inaccessible at that moment, let alone a plan to escape. Right then, I was having a terrible time with comprehending that I was within the realms of an ancient order which should have scared me to unconsciousness. However, instead of fear chilling my body, a wave of rage coursed through me. 

I knew what they would do to Tris, knew every detail of the plan. It had all been written in, "Blaze and Force," and I had read it all. Sucking in a painful gasp of air, I glanced around the room with fiery eyes. From what I could see, there was only one large door to exit and enter the room, and it looked almost exactly like the door in Earl Heold's office. There was no way for me to budge it, and even if I could, I couldn't even begin to know how to save Tris and get myself out of this underground chamber. 

Standing up, I stretched my aching limbs. How long had I been asleep? Shaking my head, I sighed. There was no way to possibly know. Down underneath the piles of earth above, there was no days or nights in these dampened tunnels. I knew these tunnels were ancient, older than documentation could tell. They used to home Her Gabriella, and the stones and mazes of rock used to be her underground palace. She wouldn't see the light of day until the twelve years was over, when she would attend the annual tiend. Other than that, the people did not deserve to see or live in the same realm as Her Gabriella, born of goddess   
and mortal man. The mortal man who gave his very life at the paying of the tiend. 

"You're up early," a voice stated plainly behind me, startling me out of my thoughts. 

I turned quickly, glancing wildly around my shoulder, eyes wild. Standing behind me was a young woman, short and petite, her thick and wild light brown hair covered her pale face. She was barefoot and she held long reed that was stuffed with local spices and tar, somewhat of a lady's pipe, a fashion I had seen all around Nidra Island. 

We stood in silence for a few seconds before she spoke. "Name's Phondaya. Folks, when I had 'em, just called me Daya. You can call me that." She took a drag from her reed before blowing out reddish steam, making the whole room smell of burning tar and thyme. 

Watching her with alert eyes, I managed hesitantly, "My name is Sandrilene. Folks, when I had them, just called me Sandry. You can call me that." 

The young woman raised her eyebrows at me before smirking. "Nice to know ya, kid," then, giving me a once-over, "pretty little thing, ain't shya?" 

Hearing her comment, I squirmed impatiently under her stare. Her intense green eyes peered down at me, appraising me slightly. I felt uncomfortable, felt awkward in my own skin. Looking around the room, trying to avoid the woman's weighty stare, I eyed the thick walls, the rich table in the middle, the richly furnished room. Licking my lips, I managed to glance back up at her. "Where exactly are we, Daya?" I picked myself up from my bed before setting foot on the cold stone floor. 

Daya eyed me some more before shrugging. "They call it the maiden's quarters, I believe. Don't really matter what they call it though. The matter of the fact is that you've reached your new home." She took another puff of her long reed before she walked measurably over to her bed. 

I stood confused at the end of my rich bed before looking around the quarters more thoroughly. The whole room dripped of a dank musty smell, radiating from every corner. Woman in the other beds were starting to stir, making horrible moaning noises as they started to wake. Blinking at the groaning figures, I heard Daya speak again. 

"You know, kid, you only get your sanity an hour of the day?" 

Snapping my attention over towards her, I scrunched my eyebrows together. "What?" 

Daya was now opening a trunk at the end of her bed (she had already extinguished her smoking concoction of tar and spices) and was pulling out various dresses, brightly colored. Taking out a flashy green one, she took off her nightdress before slipping into the green dress. Turning to me, she smiled, "Wanna tie me in the back here, sweetheart?" 

Staring blankly at her, I finally registered after a second that she had talked to me. Blinking, I nodded before scuttering over to her. Taking the brightly colored strings in my shaky hands, I pulled them tight so that they snug around her waist. While I was tying the bow in the back, I asked, "What do you mean?" I looked up at her face, "About the sanity?" 

Daya looked down at me slowly before sighing. Pulling her long brown hair back into a tight bun in the back of her head, she fastened it with two long wooden sticks. "Sandry," using my name and sighing again, she went onward, "I like you; don't know why, but I do. The reason I'm tellin' ya this is because I think you're probably a good kid. Cute, maybe, I don't know. I ain't doin' this to scare ya." 

After I had finished tying the strings in her back, she turned and looked at me, her eyes solemn. Then, her hands on her hips she started, "Well, kid, it goes like this: I'm sure by now, you now what the basic hellish premise of this situation. You've been abducted by Her Gabriella. I'd suggest you get over it. There ain't no escaping it. Now, you'd better know: You are going to be used a breeding product. You'll be popping out those babes faster than you know. Me? I've already got three little ones with their daddy. Little daughter and two sons. Cute little things, they are. . ." 

She kept on speaking for awhile, however I simply stood there, staring at her blankly. My thoughts were a thousand of miles away, as unconnected as they were. I thought that maybe this all was a sick dream, things that seemed totally unconnected, happening in a twisted pattern. Reality felt very far away all of a sudden. 

How had things started to happen so quickly? Shaking my head, I suddenly felt tears burn on the sides of my eyes. Had life just happened so slowly before now that I had hardly noticed how fast other people lived their lives? Had I been sheltered? Had life been just a game, or had I thought of it as that? 

And now, I would never get the chance to figure any of that out. Instead, I would be stuck here, producing children for this ancient cult, a cult that made my stomach turn like sour milk. I would lose Tris, I was sure of that. I knew details of the tiend, more details than even the ordinary noble. The simply fact that I could do nothing to help her either maddened me to no end. I knew that I would never lay eyes on Daja again either. Never to see her smiling face was like ripping a terrible gash in my heart. In hurt more than almost any wound. My uncle would be alone. Pasco would be unwatched, free to return to his former mischievous ways. But, what was more painful than anything was the fact that Briar was not coming. How could he? I was buried underneath a mile of earth, which was pushing on me constantly, above my head. He would never find me. And I would never see him again. I would never see him smile, could never ruffle his hair playfully, would never see his crooked smile, could never feel those strange feelings at the pit of my stomach when he glanced sideways at me, thinking I couldn't see him. Wouldn't feel something warm and wonderfully electric radiate from his fingertips to prickle on her skin when he touched me. . . 

A tear suddenly cascaded down my face, as I stared blankly ahead, my mind obviously miles away. 

"You're starting to feel it, eh?" A voice suddenly tore through my turmoil, making me blink furiously, my eyes moist and red. 

Wiping the tear from my face, I looked up at Daya before lifting a trembling eyebrow. I fumbled with my hair, undoing a single braid before letting my hair completely down. Combing through it with my hand, I asked, "Feeling what?" At that moment, my past turmoil seemed like a foggy memory. 

Daya pushed the lid of her chest down before shaking her head. "The Holiness. Feeling desperate?" I looked up at her, my face registering some recognition. The turmoil seemed to flood into my memory suddenly, the feeling of despair. "Yeah," Daya stated plainly, seeing my expression before leaning against her bed, "it happens to all of us, sweetheart. Feeling like the world is either stopped spinning or is spinning to fast. Like the earth above you is coming down on you, squish ya to pieces." 

Staring a little curiously at her. "I never heard of this holiness." 

"You haven't heard of anything yet, baby." Daya laughed, almost a little sadistically. "I can't really explain it. The first time you feel it, you forget it almost like a dream. But. . . it comes back. Everyday. Drives you to the point of insanity. Poor ol' Berana here -the one laying in the bed closest to you- can't live without the drink twice everyday. Well, most of them can't, now that I think about it. . ." 

"The drink?" I interrupted, my voice sounding a bit incredulous. 

Daya shrugged. "Her Gabriella comes in everyday to give your drink. Knocks your reasoning out for a day. Helps with the holiness. Like I said, kid, you only get your sanity an hour a day. Better for ya though." 

Pursing my lips, I ran my fingers through my hair, deep in thought. Racking my brain, I tried to think of myself as I was in a reasonable situation. I had gotten myself out of tighter terms, surely. With all the adventures that Daja, Tris, Briar and myself had gotten into, surely I could weasel my way out of this one. All I needed was a way out. If I had gotten down here, surely there must be a way out. 

Out where there was sunshine, clouds, people talking. Where there wasn't miles of earth piled on your head. Someplace where there was no such thing as tiend paying, things like compassion, happiness, and love existed. Real love. 

I felt my eyes tear up again, but I managed to catch myself before a tear could fall down my face. The only thing that I needed was to get rid of this holiness. Gritting my teeth, I knew that I could conquer it. It would take some strength, but I could do it. The second thing I needed was my sanity. This was a problem. 

Turning back to Daya, I asked quietly, almost afraid that my voice would carry to the wrong ears, "Does everyone get this drink?" 

Daya appraised me with her glittering eyes. "Not everyone. The people under Her Gabriella don't. They're used to the holiness." 

I shook my head, hair flying into my face. "No, no. I mean, do all of the maidens take this drink?" 

A pause before: "Yes. . ." 

"Do you have to? I mean, can you refuse to drink it?" 

Regarding me as if I had grown a horn, Daya looked utterly confused. "Refuse? Why would you refuse? You _felt_ the holiness, right? Ain't something that you wish to feel." 

Swallowing thickly, I trotted over to my bed, lifted open my own trunk before pulling out a bright blue gown. Lifting out of my nightdress, I put on my gown. Then, looking back at Daya, I said lowly. "What would happen if I refused to take this drink?" 

She looked at me strangely before shaking her head. This was obviously too much for her to understand. 

Mind churning, I chewed the inside of my cheek thoughtfully. If I refused to take this intoxicating drink, I might be able to find some sort of way to escape. Surely, they let you out of the room; I could chart hallways and find exists. Also, I might avoid getting myself pregnant, producing children to free up their crowded gene pool. 

Sure enough, in nearly an hour, when most of the woman were up (there was twenty-one of them-- the only two I could get to say their names other than Daya was a woman named Essa and another younger woman named Garti, the rest were moaning so high in their misery that they wouldn't bother with me. I only cried one more time; I happened to remember one day when Briar and I went swimming on a bright summer day.) Her Gabriella came into the quarters, carrying a jug full of a thick red liquid. I eyed her stealthily as she entered, looking as if she floated across the room. Yet, her eyes, steel and cold, radiated so much evil, it hurt to look at her. 

The woman nearly sprinted out of their beds, some crawling towards her. They were moaning like they had been beaten and battered and Her Gabriella was their savior. She simply smiled cruelly at them before asking, her voice soft and buttery, "How has your morning been today, my precious ladies?" 

They simply grabbed her robes, mumbling incoherent phrases over and over again. I watch in bitter silence in the back of the group, my eyes sharp and dangerous and my lips pursed. The only other woman who was standing semi erect was Daya, but her eyes looked crazy and her hands were clenched tightly at her sides. 

Her Gabriella laughed, the sound floating around the room lazily, before she nodded her head slowly. "Very well. Very well. Come, my beauties, take a sip." The woman clawed at her, a young woman with crazy red hair taking the first drink. Almost instantly, her muscles relaxed considerably, her mouth drew up in an almost drunken smile, and she sighed languidly. 

The woman nearly consumed the drink within a few seconds. The only last two people standing was Daya and me. But, after what felt like a few seconds, Daya rushed to Her Gabriella's side, kneeling at her feet and kissing her long, slender and terribly evil fingers. 

"Please, Her Gabriella. Spare me a sip. Oh please. . ." Daya stuttered, her voice muffled between her hair and Her Gabriella's fingers. 

Staring down at Daya with steely eyes, Her Gabriella nodded before handing Daya the cup. Daya instantly took her full before I saw her relax, her body giving way to a luxurious high. 

I stared from Daya to the cup for the longest time. I could feel the holiness come upon me again, feel it pushing into my heart, my very soul. Blinking rapidly, something inside urged me to take a sip. All this would be over. All the holiness would be gone. . . 

"Come, Lady Sandrilene," Her Gabriella's honey voice called to me, "take your sip. You will never have another worry, you will never taste the holiness again." 

I stared hard at the cup in her hands. Even its glow seemed evil within her hands. "No," I said firmly, still glaring at the cup. 

An air of confusion started on her face for a second. Then, however, it faded so that there was only a look of sweet evil. "No?" She asked, her voice almost mocking. "You can hold the bitterness? The holiness?" She came steps closer to me so that I could smell her, incense and holiness radiating off of her. "But, Lady Sandrilene. . . your love is not coming back. Yes, that's right; you'll never see him again. Your friend, Tris, is no more. Daja, is that her name? How will she possibly know to save you? Yes, Lady Sandrilene, there is little choice. You may bear this burden; I will not force it away from you. I only offer you a gift, an escape. Yet, you refuse. Lady Sandrilene. . . won't you get so very tired of being alone?" 

Tears edged on my vision. The Holiness was seeping out of her very words, into my body, invading me. I could feel loneliness, feel the separation wrench inside my body. 

Yet, there was a part of me that knew that what she spoke was a lie. That the only thing her words would get me was the very things that they offered to let me escape from. 

Loneliness. 

Shaking me head, I blinked away my tears before saying again, "No." 

Her Gabriella regarded me curiously, her eyebrows raised before she nodded. Then, with little more thought, she called to the girls, "Come now, my ladies. Come with me." 

We exited our room into a vast corridor of stone. Every other turn we took, the light would fade so that you totally lost your sense of direction. Torches were lighted, but the hallways were so dark that you could barely catch sight of your next step. Every once in awhile, however, I could catch sight of another corridor, men with lighted torches walking down them languidly, as if time had stopped. And it seemed that time had stopped. 

To go over the next few days, (How long I was down there is uncertain. I suppose it might have been two or three days, but at the time, it seemed like eternity) would be entirely impossible. Too many volumes of books could be filled to the brim with the men and women I encountered, the conversations I overheard, the utter, total loneliness that consumed me almost everyday. 

There were things that I learned though. I had gotten to the point were I could count how many steps would lead to every corridor. 157 steps till the first corridor. 239 until the second. At the second, approximately at the 241 step, someone would exit a room in the second corridor, a light would be seen and the sound of steps heightening up a stairwell could me heard. I figured that this might be the same steps that led up to the world above. To fresh air. 

My chores in the Blaze of Gabriella were generally repetitive. First, I would feed the occupants of the Blaze in their giant underground mess hall. Then, I would move with the other woman, who were half-witted, to scrub the same corridor everyday until our hands were red and sore, blisters forming. Then, we would serve lunch, sew linens for the people of the Blaze, and finally serve supper. After supper, the woman who needed more of the drink would be given it and then we'd clean dishes, light torches, be given our dinner (our only meal of the day) and then be sent to bed. We woke up the next day and did the same thing over again. 

During my time there, I was offered many a men's bed, offered to be the bearer of children for the most elite of the Blaze. Of course, I refused. 

And as much as I hated to admit it, Her Gabriella was right about some things. And one thing was that I got tired of being alone. 

At night I would lay in my bed, listening to the labored breaths of the women around me. I knew that Tris was not technically dead yet, if dead is what you call a ceasing of breath and pulse. But I knew that now there was little I could do to save her. She was being broken. And every time I thought of the broken ceremony, I shivered before turning over on my side, tears forming heavily in my eyes. 

I would think of happier times. Times when Briar and I would pick blueberries in mid-summer. Of course, Briar would eat more than he would pick and, at the end of the day, would have the bluest lips that I had ever seen. 

Laughing, I would mock him. "Wouldn't want to eat to many of those things, Briar; your blood might turn blue. Wouldn't want to turn into a noble would you?" With that, I would flutter my eyelashes at him jokingly. 

He would shake his head, look down into his pail, pluck a berry out and chewing on it. "Don't worry about me being mistaken for a noble, yer most duches-ness. If your nose is an indication of what nobles look like, I ain't gonna be mistaken for any noble." With that, he would give me a crooked grin, his green eyes flickering with mischief. 

It was then, when we held each others gazes, I felt the tiniest bit of a tickle at the pit of my stomach, but I would suppress it. Friends shouldn't feel tickles. That's what I would tell myself. 

Then, with a tear-stained cheeks, I would bury my face into my pillow, cursing and crying myself to sleep. 

I believe it might have been my fourth day when I woke up, upset and lonely as usual. Daya talked to me for a bit. She thought she might be pregnant again, and she chipped on about trivial things as I pretended to listen. I figured that maybe today, if I was quiet and discreet enough, I might be able to escape on my hands and knees through the corridor with the sounds of stairwell. I could not wait any longer. Death was not a pleasant option, but I knew I had little choice. It was either death by escape or rotting in the Blaze. 

As usual, Her Gabriella came and gave the woman their drink. And, as usual, she would ask me, "Will you drink today, Lady Sandrilene?" 

And, as usual, I would stiffly decline. 

Then she would nod before leading us out into the corridors. We walked for several minutes, silent escape for Daya telling me, "Isn't the light so beautiful? So pretty, so pretty. . ." 

We passed the first corridor. I began counting my steps. 158, 159, 160. . . 

My steps echoed off the stone walls. My thoughts were suddenly betraying me. How could I forget Tris? What would I do if I actually get to a stairwell? Wouldn't it be guarded? Shaking my head, I simply concentrated on my steps. 180, 181, 182. . . 

Right then, my palms became sweaty. I scrunched my eyebrows together painfully. Only a few more steps now. 210, 211, 212. . . 

It was on the 234 step when it happened. We were nearing the second corridor. I was getting ready, slouching like a stealthy cat. And then I heard it. A sound like a hustle down a fleet of stairs, a panic, some voices yelling. Some man scream in agony. I knew that scream. Someone had just died. 

Her Gabriella stopped us, but it was too late. We were now looking down the dimly light second corridor. Men were retreating from the steps, rushing towards Her Gabriella, obviously a defensive move. The men surrounded us, grasping us on the shoulders. They were clad in pure white, an army of sorts for the Blaze. 

Suddenly, one of the white clothed men fell down the stairs, landing oddly on his neck before lying eerily still. Men were still shouting nosily, but they were coming closer. 

Then, as the voices advanced increasingly, I could hear some distinct words. At first, I thought I might be imagining it, the holiness was pressing in on me. But then I heard them again. 

It was a young man's voice, rough and guttural: "What have you done Sandry, you dirty son of bitch?!" 

Another man's voice stuttered, "I don't know who you talk of. I know no Sandry." 

This time it was a woman's voice, oddly familiar: "Oh shut-up, you lying bastard. Tell us where she is and we might not kill you. What about Tris? What have you done with her?!" 

The scared man spoke again, "I know no one of who you speak!" 

Someone snorted before the sound of fight ensued. Then, two pairs of feet were heard descending the stairs. They suddenly stopped, a muffled conversation was heard until it sounded as if one person was heading upstairs and one down. 

For nearly a few seconds, I thought I might be dreaming. I thought I would wake any second and find myself in a dank, dreary room underneath the earth, surrounded by holiness. 

But I was not dreaming. For when the person came down the stairs, I had to blink several times before it dawned at me. 

Disheveled black hair, always in front of glittering green eyes. . . 

The men started to move us away from the attackers. Fortunately, I was able to recognize the man at the bottom of the stairs before he recognized me. 

Wrinkled clothes, torn pants at the knee. . . 

Just as we were about to round another corridor, I grasped onto a stone wall, so only my head and hands peeked around a corner to stare at the man. 

A surprised look on his face, grasphing a long sword in his right hand, a hand with two long green-like plants growing underneath the skin. . . 

Then, with tears in my eyes, I screamed at him: 

"_Briar!_" 

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_La la la la. . . Howdy all. Ah, are you mad at me? I am a terrible updater I know. It's okay though! **Dodges rotten vegetables thrown at her**___

_Well, life's been busy. That's my excuse. If you don't think it's good enough, you can take a stroll in traffic. Homework, birthday and such are the deal here. Sorry people. I hope you'll forgive me.___

_Oh, and the review button is rather lovely? If agree, press it and review your heart out._   



	7. Prophecy: Daja

_Disclaimer: MWHAHAHA!!! I am Tamora Pierce. HAH! Instead of actually making money off this, I'm playing you all for suckers. **Sigh** You can clearly see that I'm insane. What kind of sick person are you anyways, trying to sue a mentally ill person? You know I don't own this. Get off my case, you blood-suckers, looking for the money I DO NOT HAVE AND EVEN I DID WOULD NOT BE COMING FROM THIS STORY!!!!!_

_A/N: Yeah, so, I'm just warning ya: Death is here. People die. Not really explicit, but if you have a problem with it, I think you might want to leave. Actually, if you've read this story this far without going, "Hm, she's a freak," I think you can handle this chapter. BTW, this chapter actually takes place before the last one. There's a reason why I placed the chapters that way they are. I promise._   
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**Daja's POV:**

I leaned back into my chair, twisting my neck before I heard it pop in several places. Sucking hard on my teeth, I glanced sideways at my companion, whose head was in his hands, messy black hair tangled and flopping over his hands. I frowned before asking, "How's it going, buddy?" 

"I feel. . . like shit," he replied, his voice sounding rugged and weary. Looking up, I could see sleep deprived, blood-shot eyes and a disgruntle expression. He motioned to the bar tender to get him another ale before he put his head back into his hands. 

Shaking my head, I took a swig from my drink before sighing darkly. Looking around my settings, I could make out the hazy atmosphere of The Love Bird Tavern, a place for young couples to rest after a long day of vacationing in Nidra Island. Chuckling to myself, I knew that Briar and me didn't appear much like a couple right then, looking sick and half-drunk. Briar thought it would be a good idea that we disguise ourselves as newlyweds to avoid any "unwanted attention." Something about people that he knew that he couldn't trust. Plus, there might be people from this Blaze looking for us. 

However, we were putting on an unsuccessful show. I was about to say something about this to Briar, but, taking one glance at him, I kept my mouth shut. The poor fellow was wallowing in enough misery. 

Not that I wasn't seriously pissed and incredibly distraught myself. Feeling Sandry and Tris die was like taking a knife and stabbing into my rib cage before slicing it upward into my heart. It had started like a sick nausea, but it was soon followed by utter heartache and trauma. 

I remember thinking I wanted to die right then and there. Clutching my heart, breathing heavy, Frostpine had looked at me as if I _was _dying, as I sat there crying on the forge floor, tears flowing freely. He obviously didn't know. No one could except for Briar and myself. No one could know unless they knew our bond. 

Even_ I _couldn't understand Briar's total grief. It was something so foreign to myself that I couldn't even begin to comprehend it. So, I simply steered clear of it. 

Hearing Briar groan in what sounded like utter frustration next to me, I followed suite. If we had learned one thing the entire four days we had been in Nidra Island, it was this: The west side of the market was big. No, it was huge. There must have been a hundred twists and turns everywhere, at least several hundred alleyways. 

And, even if we did find this alleyway that Sandry and Tris had disappeared into, there was no knowing what we had to do. Briar, supposedly, said that he had a clue that would help us gain access to this cult, but I was guessing that he was about as clueless as I was. 

In fact, he was turning over the inscription that was supposed to get us where we were trying to go. However, from the look on his face and the furrow of his brow, I could tell he was concentrating hard and confused. But, I also saw something else there. Something like unwavering determination, flawless devotion, pure motivation. I smiled somewhat bitter-sweetly before clearing my throat. He looked up at me slowly, his eyes glittering dully. 

He closed his eyes slowly before grunting. Then, placing his hands on the bar, he lifted himself up and started walking towards the door. I knew what that meant. We were going to look for the alleyway again. For the third time today. 

Sighing, I stretched my aching limbs, laying some money on the counter and winking at the bar tender before following my new "husband" outside the tavern and into the hot Nidran sun. 

-------------------------------------- 

"We've already been down this alleyway, Briar." 

"No, we ain't." 

"No, we_ haven't_; I thought you gave up that street talk a long time ago." 

Briar spun hard on his heels before glaring at me. "Would you shut-up? We ain't _really_ married, you know." He snapped it, showing his obvious impatience. Both our nerves had been frazzled due to the endless walking and sticky temperature. 

Frowning at him, I sighed before tugging on one of my braids. Looking around the alleyway, I shook my head darkly. The allyway looked too familiar to me. Stacks of boxes were thrown messily around, garbage was discarded sloppily and the place smelled of mold and rotting food. Of course, most alleyways looked the same. 

Looking up at the sky, I could see the sun setting, orange, red, and blazing. A pale ghost of a moon was breathed across the horizon, evidence that the night would be on us soon. The scene was stunning but something about it made my stomach turn. It was stunning but also absolutely. . . dangerous. 

Running my tongue over my teeth, I called over to Briar, who was pacing through the alleyway, "I think we should start heading back to the Tavern now. The streets aren't a nice place to be when it's dark, ya know?" I turned to look at him, only to find him perfectly still, his shocking green eyes boring into the inscription of the ancient gold necklace. His face was obvious evidence that he was zoned out, his concentration pouring out solidly. Pursing my lips together, I observed him silently, and after not getting any sort of answer for a minute, I mumbled quietly, "And maybe you're not even listening." Walking over to him, I glanced over his shoulder at the inscription. 

There was only one major inscription in the center of the pendant which I had read numerous times. I repeated it in my head:   
  
_"Behind the darkened hall,_   
_ with the eyes so bright,_   
_There shall be a man's call,_   
_ and a garden shall be in sight._   
_Oh, down the lonesome stairs,_   
_ hurry, in case you loose will,_   
_past the dead and their glares,_   
_ you will reach the Blaze Hill."_

But, as I read it again, I noticed something different about it. There seemed to be an odd detailing around the edges of the pendent. Almost like. . . 

Reaching my arm around Briar, I ran my finger over the edge of the pendant, removing rust and debris. And something odd suddenly emerged. 

I heard Briar suck in some air before stating, "Never saw that 'fore." He rubbed his calloused hands over the outside of the pendant. Words started to appear slowly, just barely legible. And then, after a bit of scrubbing, a whole long sentence like the verse in the middle appeared. 

Licking my lips, I squinted my eyes at the inscription. Exchanging looks with Briar, I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted me. 

"I can barely make it out, but I think it says," he started before commencing: 

_"And lo! If anything I learned it would be this:_   
_ Beneath scars, tissue, and tears,_   
_That although life may, at times, be bliss,_   
_ and, often, an overcomence of fears,_   
_The most basic of truths will conquer all;_   
_ will meet all at the end._   
_It will always grab a hand at a fall,_   
_ whether lover or friend._   
_It is at times, not always like a song of a dove,_   
_ but it is the truth. . ._

_ And the truth is love."_

We stood there, silenced and feeling quite awkward all of sudden, as if we had crossed some line that should not be crossed. Briar's eyes bore into the inscription, intense and raw. And, at that second, as I observed him, I felt as I was on the outside looking in. Something had happened to him at the second that I couldn't explain, as if a revelation from heaven had dawned on his mind. It looked, if I could possibly explain it, like someone waking up for the first time in their life. 

Blinking, I stared at him for a long time before looking back at the inscription. I read it again. And again. Finally, after scratching my head, I bit my lip and asked quietly, "What does it mean? I mean, what does it have to do with anything?" 

He looked up at me, his eyes bleary and yet vivid. He blinked slowly before a thin smile crawled on his face (which, despite being weary and the flops of tangled black hair crawling in his intense eyes, looked extremely handsome.) Then, quite suddenly, he turned on his heel and stared hard at the wall at the back of the alley. He stared at it for what felt like forever. A bead of sweat fell down my forehead and into my eyes, but I ignored it. Instead, I simply looked from the wall to Briar, not fully understanding but getting an inkling of a guess. . . 

_And the truth is love. . ._

Then, suddenly, Briar spoke, his throat dry and crackled. It sounded like a whisper at first, but I heard it. 

Soft but increasing in tone, he said, "Hear me, Eyes So Bright. I know you're there. Don't pretend that you won't grant me access. You know that you will. You gotta." 

Suddenly, in a mere second after Briar spoke, two red eyes glanced vividly from over the stack of boxes. It stared at us closely before blinking. I felt my insides flip over in surprise, and I reached over and touched Briar's arm in surprise. He ignored me, his eyes blazing, a twisted grin on his face. A crazed look was plastered on his face. 

Swallowing thickly, I breathed to Briar, "What the hell is going on?" He silenced me with his hand, but touched my arm reassuringly. 

Taking a step forward, he called out again, "This is your garden? Stacks of boxes and litter? " Frowning Briar shook his head before shrugging. Then, a slight chuckle emulated from his lips. 

Staring up at him wide-eyed, I was for sure that he might have lost some sense under the hot Nidran Sun. Raising an appraising eyebrow, I returned my stare to the back wall. The red eyes that peered at both of us, or rather, stared through us, sent a shiver through my spine. It was as if I was going through a silent interrogation, one that I had no control over my answers or whether I wished to answer truthfully. 

Briar's head snapped back up and stared hard at the gaze. He was thoughtfully silent before he stated, "You know why I'm here. Now, you will grant us passage. You can't deny us. You know you can't, and you _won't_." He said that last sentence much like a father would command his child, and his eyes blazed. 

Then, the strangest thing that could possibly happen, happened. The eyes disappeared for a second, and I thought for an instant that it might have been all a sick dream. But it wasn't, for the next second, something like a rush of air pressed through the alleyway. A steady wind blew in our faces, and I had to squint to see clearly. Briar grabbed my hand, pulling me against the wind. I struggled against the pressure of the wind, but I finally made a few steps foreword. Then, the wind burst unexpectedly, making me close my eyes, hands up at my face to shield from the blinding force. Tears gathered at the corner of my eyes, spilling out and flowing down my face, just to be dried and swept away by the tumbling, roaring wind. 

And then it stopped. Not the slightest zephyr was evidence of the gigantic wind that had swept through the alleyway. My eyes fluttered open after a few hesitant seconds, not fully believing that it was all over. I blinked my eyes slowly, looking around the alleyway. The boxes were completely gone and in their place was rich moss-like ground with small, twig-like flowers growing from them. It reminded me of the fields that I saw in the Namorn Empire in late summer. No trees grew, but dazzling small bushes and vibrant flowers flourished. 

"They weren't kidding about the garden, were they?" I heard Briar stammer, his voice sounding half in awe and half in sarcastic observation. 

Letting go of his hand, I turned sharp on my heel, just to blink in shock. The passage that used to open up to the alleyway was blocked by a thick stone wall. My mouth opened to state this to Briar, but I was interrupted quite suddenly by a thick, guttural voice. 

"Congratulations. You have found the entrance to Blaze Hill." 

Biting my lip, I turned slowly, something in the voice reaching to my very bones, shaking my insides. When I turned completely, I was standing parallel to Briar, who was looking intensely ahead, his lips pursed. 

Swallowing, I followed his gaze before my eyes rested on a figure, skinny and fragile. To the casual onlooker, it might seem like a frail older man, leaning on a smooth wooden cane, his right leg slightly shorter than the other. His knotted hands were wrinkled but surprisingly strong as they rubbed the top of his cane. He looked like another grandfather, strong and wise. 

But there were two things. His eyes. And the dog that sat at his side. 

The eyes, glazed and pale. He was obviously blind, for he rarely blinked and I noticed that he didn't look directly at us, but rather past us. Yet, they were not grotesque or almost spooky. Rather, they were. . . wise, for lack of a better word. In them, you saw the wisdom of many years, the knowledge that few men posses, discernment shining true in the blankness of those eyes. 

Yet the dog. Ragged thing it was, flea bitten and scruffy. But the dog looked at you the same way the older man looked at you. Yet, its eyes were not blind and glazed. Instead, they were a shining, glowing red. 

The dog never looked anywhere except Briar. I could have yelled, screamed, cried, but its eyes would never have wavered. Grinding my teeth, I stared from the old man to the dog for awhile before asking quietly, "Who _are_ you?" 

The old man chuckled. "Who am I? That is something that can take a lifetime to answer, my child. I can answer, but it will take quite a long time, and even then, words are hardly adequate for a question such as that." A slight, crooked smile graced his lips. "However, you may ask me what I am called." 

"What are you called?" Briar asked sharply, startling me. I had almost forgotten that he was there; the old man's eyes had engrossed me so. 

Rubbing his cane some more, the old man seemed to concentrate before saying slowly, "They --humph-- called me Broken Spirit in the Blaze," he raised his thick eyebrows before continuing, "but _you_ may call me Azakil." 

Briar looked down at me, his eyes squinted before he looked back up. "All right, Azakil. Help us out here and answer a few questions. Do you know how to get to this Blaze Hill?" 

"Yes." The old man said no more. 

Briar's shoulders slumped in frustration, obviously not amused by the man's blunt answer. Rolling his eyes, he ran a tired hand through his hair before giving me an exasperated look and releasing a sigh. 

I offered Briar a sympathetic smile. Sucking in a lungful of hair, I dared a step closer. Azakil did nothing. Giving him a once-over, I started, "Could you tell us how to get there. . . sir?" I added the last part hastily, unsure how to address him. 

The old man finally smiled toothily, shaking his head. "Ah," he started shaking his head slowly, "what a polite child you are, Daja Kisubo. Of course, you always have been. Good to your parents. Ah, yes. Tragic that they died before they could see the beautiful young woman you are today. Pity." 

His words hit me like a brick wall. Reeling back, I blinked at Azakil, uneasiness turning in my stomach. My eyes were wide, and I struggled for words, my mouth opening and closing like a earthed fish. 

A hand clamped on my shoulder, almost in a protecting way. Looking up, I goggled at Briar, who was staring intently at the man. He was frowning, but in his face I saw apparent confusion. 

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Azakil. We don't know this Daja you speak of," Briar said coolly. So coolly, _I _almost believed him for a second. 

The old man simply chortled at Briar before smiling. "And you, Briar Moss! I see you've finally come. I knew that our time was drawing to a close. Ah, but it's all like it should be, I suppose. Things can never live if they never die, eh? Well, one thing's for sure: How She's been preparing for you! Hah! Like She can stop it. Stop you, stop _fate_. Foolishness, mere child's thinking. Of course, I've been telling Her this for years, but, alas, She simply will not listen. . ." 

His hand gripped me harder. "How do you know my name?" His voice was stiff but at the same time surprised. 

Azakil's smile became broader. "You're quite famous at the Blaze, Briar Moss. Have been ever since your birth, I'm afraid. We've been expecting you for --what has it been?-- about two hundred years now." 

"What?!" Briar's voice was failing him now, sounding dry. 

"Oh yes. I'm sure you're surprised." Azakil chuckled. "Suppose I would be also. But you know it's true. It's your destiny Briar Moss; it's the only way this passage would open. Only you would figure out what the inscription meant, feel what you're supposed to feel in order for passage. Why, Sanders of Lucania knew this before your own birth. _I_ knew this before your birth." Then, as I looked up and saw Briar trying to find words but failing, the old man began what sounded like a wonderful song, his cracking voice suddenly sounding silvery and smooth: 

_"Dreams, though dreams they not be:_   
_ He will come with sword and iron fist,_   
_To set his only Lady Love home and free,_   
_ making through the cliff and mist._   
_He shall be called by the rose thorn,_   
_ handsome, courageous, and brave,_   
_and between two loves he will be torn,_   
_ but he will conquer by the grave."_

When he was done, I found my eyelids heavy and my eyes scratchy. Blinking rapidly, I looked up at Briar, only to be shocked by what I saw. His eyes were not like mine, sleepy and droopy, but instead vivid and sparkling. His jaw was set in a straight line. 

Looking intensely at Azakil, his voice was slow, determined, and purposeful. "Why did they kill her?" His lips curled and now there was a snarl emitted from his mouth, "Why did they kill Sandry?" He strode up quickly next to the man, looking straight down at the old man, who he towered over. "She was innocent, dammit! What the hell did she do to you?! To anyone? She didn't deserve it. They had _no goddamn right! _I-- I . . ." It was here that his voice faltered, crackling with pure misery. I watched in what felt like slow-motion as Briar closed his eyes, squeezing them close. And then I saw something that caught my breath. After three long days, something inside me caught, my lungs and heart stopped. 

Briar Moss, pillar of stubbornness and everything sarcastic, cried. 

Running up to him, I took his hand, squeezing it tightly. Something like a sob emitted unknowingly from my lips. 

Azakil looked measurably at us, or rather into us, before he spoke. He was frowning now. "We kill no one within the walls of the Blaze. Lady Sandrilene is not dead, not in the slightest. In fact, Briar Moss, I believe she is more alive than ever before in her life." He leaned back, as if to appraise us. 

Briar slowly opened one eye hesitantly. 

"What?" I asked him, licking my dry lips. "What did you say?" 

"Lady Sandrilene is not dead." 

Something sparked in Briar's eyes. "I _felt _her die." 

"Ah. Ah-ha." Azakil nodded to this. "You felt her pain, not her death. Of course, you realized this already Briar Moss. You simply could not live without Sandrilene, I'm afraid." Briar opened his mouth inquiringly, but Azakil interrupted, his voice tart, "Oh stop being stupid and incompetent! Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about, boy. You know, somewhere in that thick skull of yours, that something of the bond you have with Lady Sandrilene cannot be shaken without your eventual death. Maybe you haven't realized it yet, but you will. Oh perhaps you could live without this Tris girl-- who, by the way, is practically dead, but, of course, that won't stop you saving her, I suppose-- but you know, Briar Moss, what it means for Lady Sandrilene to die. I'm afraid you know the realities _far_ too well. . ." 

I watched the reactions on Briar's face, my eyes wide. If circumstances had been wholly different, I would had chuckled. But, unfortunately, the circumstances were not and all I could do was stand there and grit my teeth at Briar's open eyed, frozen fish expression. 

". . . Now I suppose you'll want to know how to get to her. Yes? I thought so." Azakil had a strange light to his face, as if he was getting too excited for a fragile old man. Lifting a crooked finger, he pointed to our left. Eyes scanning quickly through the vegetation filled area, I squinted at the far left wall. There, tucked between two thick bushes was a small passageway that I ceased to notice until now.   


"Go," Azakil said, his voice suddenly quiet. "You will find what you seek." Then, he suddenly commanded us, "Here, take these." Turning, Briar and I glanced at him and then at his arms. In them, there were two swords, both with intricately engraved hilts. "They will aid you." Looking up at Briar, I shook my head, and he gave me a doubtful glance. "Go on," Azakil instructed again, "They will not fit within any other grasp than yours. They were built for you nearly two hundred years ago." 

I don't know what compelled me to take the sword, but I slowly extended my hand before closing my hands over the smooth metal. Immediately, a warmth swept through my arm. The metal blazed, but in the pleasant sort of way, and the engravings in them glowed. 

And then, I saw it. My name, etched intricately within the engravings: _Daja Kisubo_. Made nearly two hundred years ago. 

Looking up in surprise, I glanced with wide eyes at Briar. His sword had done the same thing. We had a silent conversation there and then. 

Without second thought we dashed towards the passageway. The wind blew in our faces because we ran so hard. We ran for so long before we reached a long stairwell, stairs as far as the eye could see. 

Under my breath, remembering the inscription, I muttered, "The lonesome stairs." Briar ignored me. He was already trotting down the stairs. 

I have never felt so utterly blank. The sword's metal burned in my hands, my name pulsing against my flesh. There was only adrenaline and the same thought within my brain:_ Sandry and Tris aren't dead. They aren't dead. . ._

And I truly believed it. I believed it with all my soul. 

We encountered our first man from the Blaze about three-fourth's of the way down. I've never killed a man without feeling slight hesitation. I felt no hesitation when my sword stabbed him swiftly in the back. 

When he hit the ground, there was a look of surprise on his face; I noticed it coldly as Briar and I rushed past him. 

It wasn't long before we ran into more men. It hardly surprised me. I knew we would meet opposition. I just figured that they might give us trouble. However, it almost disturbed me how easy it was killing them. 

They were ushering war cries as they came towards us. One younger man rushed towards me, a wooden club in his right hand, his only weapon. I almost felt a pang of guilt when I twisted his arm before kicking him in the gut, sending him tumbling down the stairs. I heard what sounded like a bone breaking. Eyeing him for a brief second, I saw that he had landed oddly on his neck. A shiver ran through my spine. 

Men were retreating now. Some stayed. In fact, one man was engaging Briar in a fight right then. He actually had a small dagger and was giving a worthy fight. Probably would have been good with a proper weapon. However, Briar punched him the gut before slapping the dagger out of the man's grasp. Then, grabbing him around the neck, Briar held the man at bay before asking sharply, "What have you done with Sandry, you dirty son of bitch?!" 

The man grasped frantically at Briar's arm, clawing him before he squealed, "I don't know who you talk of. I know no Sandry." 

I was sick of riddles and games. Pointing the blade of my sword at his throat, I growled, "Oh shut-up, you lying bastard. Tell us where she is and we might not kill you. What about Tris? What have you done with her?" 

He continued to struggle, "I know no one of who you speak!" 

Exchanging looks with Briar, I stiffened my lip before nodding for Briar to let him go. With some hesitation, he did. Immediately, the man spun on his heel before landing a hard punch on Briar's chin. 

I had had enough. Grabbing the man by his hair, I spun him around before kneeing him hard in the groin. He doubled over in pain before I elbowed him in the head. He fell to the ground like a stone. I was sure he wasn't dead, but he was going to feel that for awhile. 

Briar was still on his feet, eyeing me. A crooked smile was on his face. "Nice work, Daj'," He drawled coolly, rubbing his injured chin. There was a sparkle in his eyes that I hadn't seem in a long time. If I have had more time to evaluate it, I would have called it. . . happiness. 

I rolled my eyes. "Let's go." Walking down the stairs, I suddenly felt Briar clamp his hand around my wrist. 

"Not so fast." 

Turning sharply on my heel, I gave him a fiery look. "This isn't the time to discuss something, Briar." 

"Too bad," he responded tartly. His hair was in his eyes again. This made me even more annoyed. "You need to go for help, Daja. Get the authorities. . . anyone. I can get Sandry and Tris out of here, but I can't kill everyone." 

I frowned. "That's where I come handy. Plus, you give Sandry a sword and she be swinging left and right." I smiled knavishly before adding teasingly, "_You _would know more than anyone that she's dangerous when she's mad." 

Even though I could tell that he was both amused and annoyed by my last comment, he shook his head. More hair fell in his face. I frowned harder. "You know that you've gotta do it. I'll go in and get Tris and Sandry. If you don't go, Daja, I don't think we'll get out of her alive." 

We had a small staring contest, lasting just a few seconds. I sighed. Then, nodding quietly, I sheathed my sword, trotting up the stairs. When I was on equal footing with Briar, I looked hard into his eyes (which, to my annoyance, were hidden by a disarray of hair) before commanding in a low voice, "You be careful, Briar Moss. Don't do anything stupid, don't get yourself killed, always be cautious. . ." 

"All right, I get it. . . _mother_," Briar interrupted, his smiling broadening. Then, in almost a shooing motion, he nodded up the stairs. 

Smiling at him, I leaned in and kissed him between the eyes, Trader custom for good luck. With a parting smile, I ran a few steps up before I paused. Turning slowly, I called to Briar, "You gotta tell her, Briar." He stopped dead in his tracks before looking up at me. Blinking, I could finally see the hurt and innocence there, after days of coldness and detachment. I smiled thinly. "It's gone too long without saying." 

Briar stared hard at me before nodding. Then, he disappeared down the steps. 

I watched his retreating figure for only a few seconds, a small, bitter-sweet smile plastered on my face. Then, with determination, I disappeared in the darkness of the stairwell, pass the dead men, their blank stares piercing into me. 

But I didn't loose will. I knew where to go. In fact, I had observed more than Briar had that dark night with Fayola. 

When I came to the top of the stairwell, I pushed open a door with a regular knob. I emerged to a misty Nidran night, in a dark alleyway with a littering of boxes and crates. 

The garden had conformed back to an ugly disarray of rubbish. Azakil and the dog with red eyes had disappeared. 

And, creeping through the dark streets, I disappeared amongst the night. 

_____________________________________________________________ 

_A/N: OH CHA CHA!! Hm, I need to stop learning the Spanish language; it's slowly being butchered. Anyway, weird chapter. Well, if you want to think I'm insane, go right ahead. I won't blame you. However, I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I should have another update later this week now that it's Spring Break, I have time to write. Hah, but next chapter will dear Tris (no, I haven't forgotten the poor dear. Yes, and if you don't think that Tris should be called a poor dear, you might later.) Anywho, later chapter will have more romance and such. I like how one reviewer put it: "SANDRY'S GOING TO GET SNOGGED SENSELESS!!!" Hehe. . ._

_Well, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REVIEWS!! You guys are great. It really inspires me to write. Special thanks to people who stay faithful every chapter. May you be blessed with love and pizza. But I love reviews. Please review. PWEASE?_

_MWHAHAHA, snog is great word! Ah hem, just seeing in you were still reading. . ._   
  



	8. Symphony: Briar

_Disclaimer: I'm have PMS and a hardcover edition of War and Peace. Wanna sue me now? Um, yeah, not making any money on this story or anywhere else. Just burrowing the characters. I had a chat with them and they didn't seem to mind. So there!_

_A/N: Snogs are here. If you don't like Sandry or Briar, I'd suggest you just skip over this little piece of literature._   
**_____________________________________________******

**Briar POV:**   


When I first saw her, I thought for sure that I might had died. There she was, tears streaming down her face, ashy-blonde hair completely down, looking even more fragile and weak then ever. 

But Sandry was supposed to be dead. Yes, that Azakil said that she wasn't. But he also was a senile old man. 

I stared blankly, not daring to believe. My sword had dropped limply in my arm, suddenly feeling very heavy. The guards were retreating now, ushering what looked like a hoard of equally skinny and fragile woman away. There were screams of sorts, men's voices shouting, a strong woman's voice giving orders. They all sounded dull and odd to my ears, though. Like a foreign language. 

_"Briar!"_

Somebody sounded my name. Blinking, I suddenly snapped out of reverie. I looked oddly at my hands. Was I still alive? 

"Briar!" A familiar voice yelled again before adding, "Over here, muddle-brain! Quit --_let go of me_!-- staring! I'm over --I said, let go!-- here!" 

Glancing up snappily, I knew that voice from a mile away. My eyes fastened ahead of me, I quickly surveyed the scene in front of me. There was Sandry, for sure, holding tightly to the edge of stone wall. A much stronger man was trying to pull her away. However, she was giving up quite a fight. She was pumping her legs furiously at him, and while I watched, she promptly sunk her teeth into the man's knuckles. He howled with anguish. 

And then, while I saw the tears gather in the man's eyes, I truly knew that it was Sandry. 

A small, crooked, and evil grin suddenly grew on my face. 

Running up the long corridor, I tried to find some kind of words in my mouth, but they all died and perished quite quickly on my tongue. All that I could think was that I wasn't dreaming and that I wasn't dead. And Sandry wasn't dead. 

I quickly greeted the man with a swift punch in the chin. Sandry, quick on her feet, as usual, slammed an elbow up into his nose before squashing his toes with a quick stamp of her feet. The man crumpled to the ground, bloody-nosed, a surprised expression on his face. 

Sandry stared at the man in shock, looking somewhat surprised at her own actions. Then, slowly, her gaze glanced back at me, her bright eyes staring at me measurably. 

Seeing her then, I felt something catch in my throat, and something water in my eyes. It was a silly moment, and I would probably be embarrassed about it later on, but right then, I couldn't help it. 

I felt a bit like an gushing dult. 

However, I could see tears gather in her eyes too, but she blinked them away, her expression quickly changing to that of someone perturbed. "_You're_ a bit late," She said tartly before crossing her arms across her chest, looking amused. 

I smiled back at her crookedly. "Ain't my fault," I bit back before adding, "You know, this place isn't really on any Nidran maps. Took a wrong turn or something on Main Street." I gripped my sword tighter. For some reason, I didn't think the reception would be quite like this. But, I felt suddenly very at ease, as if all the previous feelings had been washed away to replace something simpler. Something like peace, comfort, and. . .happiness. "Plus," I added finally, "_somebody_ didn't give very good directions." 

Sandry arched an eyebrow before stating quickly, "Don't look at me. Must have been someone else." I rolled my eyes on that, but she simply chuckled. Then, our eyes met, her striking blue ones, gleaming dark in the torch light, half of her face illuminated by the fire. Her face looked thinner and longer than I remembered, but I didn't mind. 

In fact, I couldn't remember a time in my life when she looked more beautiful. . . 

I smiled crookedly at her, feeling very nervous all of sudden and yet very comfortable at the same time. She smiled briefly too, and suddenly her eyes watered. This time, she had no control of it, for quickly, a salty tear had escaped and was now running down her cheek. 

Her chin trembled. "_Oh, Briar_!" She exclaimed before throwing her arms around my neck promptly, clasping tightly. 

If it hadn't been a pleasant surprise, I would have felt the sure pain of her knocking my adam's apple on my throat. That, and being lovingly choked.   
"I. . . I never thought I'd see you again," She sobbed, her face buried in my chest. "I was sure that I was going to either rot down here or die trying to escape. And. . . and, I was getting --what're the right words?-- terribly tired of being alone? Yes, I suppose that's the best way to describe. And, oh, you can't possibly understand how lonely I was!" 

I sucked my teeth. "Actually, I think I can. . ." I murmured quietly before I wrapped a hesitant hand around her waist. Her frail waist. 

She didn't hear me, for she suddenly drew away before offering a watery smile. "And now, you're here. Really here." Her eyes suddenly glittered. "Scruffy and unkempt as usual." She drew up a shaky hand and pushed back a few pieces of stubborn hair that were always in my eyes. 

Smiling crookedly, I glanced sideways before looking back at her. "Can't say much about you either, sweetheart." I caught her hands with one swift movement. My thumb and forefinger could fit around the entirety of her wrist. "What did they feed you down here?" 

Suddenly, at my words, something dark passed over Sandry's face. She drew her hands back roughly, before pronouncing, "I don't wanna talk about it," her eyes watered angrily, "it's too painful." 

I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but was loudly interrupted by a pitch of screams and yells. My eyes quickly snapped back down the corridor, searching the dimly lit hallways. What greeted me didn't lift my spirits. 

It looked like a dozen men were charging towards us, yielding swords, obviously better prepared for battle than the men I had met on the stairs. They were all dressed in white, and they looked somewhat perturbed that we had knocked one of their men unconscious. 

I quickly let go of Sandry before holding my sword up a little higher. Glancing at Sandry from the corner of my eye, I asked uneasily, "Why don't they look happy to see us?" 

"Because they're not," Sandry stated plainly. She was stiff, her head held high, looking like she was preparing for battle. 

I examined the situation hurriedly. There were thirteen (fourteen, maybe) men running towards us, brandishing poorly made, but obviously pointy swords. Some of them looked like they had leather shields. They were also what looked like, from their red faces and glittering eyes, mad. 

I looked at our party. A guy with a sword and a pair of simple breeches and a thin cotton shirt. A young woman who, although ticked, was in skirts (were they bright pink? I blinked at them) and had only her thin fists to fight. 

It was then that I decided to run. 

I grabbed Sandry by the wrist. "Come on, duchess. We're skipping this welcoming reception." 

She remained stubbornly set on her ground, her jaw set stiffly. "I can take them." 

Glancing quickly at advancing raid of men, I shook my head. "Doubt it." I pulled harder. "Do you have to plant your feet like that?" 

I heard her give what sounded like a mix between a growl and sigh. Then, shaking her head slightly, she picked her skirts up, grumbling, "Lead the way, wonder boy." 

"You mean, you don't know the way out?" I glanced at her sheepishly over my shoulder. I was hoping that she might have had some idea of where she was going when she had planned on escaping. 

Sandry raised an eyebrow. "Isn't there a stairway or something?" 

We rounded a corner, hearing the stomps of the men gaining behind us. For skirts, Sandry was keeping a decent speed, and I was happy for that. If we didn't hurry, I was sure that they were coming close by the second. 

I could see the turn where the staircase should be. With a burst of speed, I turned quick on my heel, risking a quick glance at Sandry to make sure she was keeping up. I saw her open her mouth, her eyes suddenly glittering in warning. Her words never came out. 

Something hard and painful came in contact with my head. I could feel the skin on my skull tearing, and instantly, as soon as I opened my eyes, I knew that there was blood. Groaning, I heard somebody else make hard contact with that wall before letting out a uncharacteristic curse. 

Looking to my right, I saw Sandry standing there, rubbing her wrist, obviously using her hands to brace herself in the impact. Her teeth were pursed and she was eying me angrily. 

Taking a quick step back, I observed our situation. Where the stairs used to lead up into the freedom of the outdoors, there was now a solid wall. Glaring at the stony blockade, I cursed, first in Nidran, and then growling in Imperial, "What the hell?!" I turned back to Sandry, who was eying me still. I put my hands up defensively. "I swear there was stairs here just a few minutes ago." 

She frowned but then took my hand. "Well, it not going to do us much good now." Nodding towards our attackers, she hurriedly rushed down a darkened corridor to our far left. "Hurry up, now." 

Rolling my eyes at the sudden switch in command, I followed her, looking around the new hallway. Noting that it was darker and gloomier than the one we just exited, I asked loudly, "Any idea where we're going, your most glorious?" 

"No clue." 

"Well, that's reassuring," I bit in before we ran harder down the hallway. It suddenly curved to the right and I nearly skidded on the slippery floor as we made the turn. And then, on taking the turn, we saw a faint light. Something that looked like natural light. Setting sunlight. 

I heard Sandry gasp before she ran faster, her small legs pumping faster than I had ever seen. "Briar," she panted, "there's an exit up ahead." 

"Well noted, Duchess of The Obvious" I said, sarcasm laced through my words. She glanced back at me, her lips in a scowl. I offered her a crooked grin before grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her faster. "There gaining on us," I said in between breaths. It seemed as if the tiny space of an exit was getting farther away rather than closer. 

We ran for what felt like hours, my muscles in my legs burning in agony. I felt Sandry give a little trip, but she quickly recovered, pumping her legs faster than ever. 

"All right down there?" I asked over my shoulder, feeling a bead of sweat fall down my forehead. 

"I'm fine," She declared before adding, "Don't worry about me either. You worry about getting yourself out of here." 

"Hah! Don't think I went through all that trouble to come and rescue you and then hand you over to some red-faced wide-mouths, who wouldn't know a good sword if it slapped them over the head." I risked a quick glance at her over my shoulder before raising an eyebrow. "You know I'm too stubborn to just do that." 

Sandry smiled sheepishly before she looked past me. I followed her gaze and saw that we were only about a hundred yards away from the exit. Barely making out the fuzzy details, I saw that the outside led to what looked like a small balcony. And from there, there was just stars and sky. Biting my lip, I realized that a balcony wasn't preferable to the exposure of the Nidran marketplace. However, as I observed our present state, it was better than a darkened corridor. At least, if worse came to worse, I could look my killer in the eye before I died. 

We were ten feet away, then two, and then, we burst into the fresh open air. Oxygen filled my lungs, replacing the stale air that was contained in the stony corridors. 

Looking quickly around my settings, I saw that we were indeed on a balcony of sorts. It outstretched for several hundred feet, laying over a cliff that dropped sharply towards the crashing ocean below. To the right and left of me there was a small walking platform that totally encompassed the extent of my vision. 

Almost instantly, as soon as we stepped out on the platform, Sandry shrunk from me. I glanced down at her, eyebrows furrowed and confused. 

She looked as if she was grimacing, and there was suddenly a terror-stricken look to her face. Tugging on my arm, she started to head in the direction of the men's shouts. "Let's leave, Briar. We can't be out here," She mumbled, sounding like she was frightened at some kind of strange phobic. 

Staring at her as if she had lost her mind, I tugged back before saying sternly, "Are you crazy?!" I eyed her before pulling her further out in the balcony. "Come on, Sandry. Let's see how far the drop is. . ." 

"It's far enough to kill," Sandry stated quickly and quietly. Her eyes were wide with fear and her breath seemed to catch in her chest. 

And so it was. When he had reached the edge, and I looked down, it was almost dizzying how far away the crashing waves were. Blinking in astonishment, I pondered that if the fall itself didn't kill you, the smashing waves would either drown you or crash your skull against the mountains of rocks. 

Gulping nosily, I felt a heavy tug on the sleeve of my shirt. Looking down, I glanced at the fragile and frightened figure of Sandry, who was glancing up at me with large, cloudy eyes. 

"We. Can't. Stay. Here." She said, her words deliberately enunciated. Then, with great force, she started to tug me away from the balcony, towards our attackers. 

Seeing her there, the very fact that she was even there, by my side, almost made me go with her blindly. But, suddenly my logic kicked in. Something almost pained me when I shook my head and then promptly grabbed Sandry around the waist, slinging her over my shoulder. She emitted a large scream, which I wasn't expecting, before she began, which I did expect, to flare her arms wildly, pounding her small fists against my back. 

I winced as she slapped a good, strong hit in the middle of a vertebrae. "Ouch! Goddammit, Sandry, hold still! I gotta concentrate!" 

Of course, she didn't listen. Of course. 

Giving a quick look around my surroundings, I noticed that the opening, of which the attackers were soon going to enter, was overhung by some rather bushy looking ivy, which surprisingly had short thorns covering their branches. I looked from the ivy to the cave and then back at the ivy. 

Inspiration struck. 

Fluttering my eyes closed, and with Sandry still beating mercilessly against my back, I sent a mental image to the ivy. A mental image of it growing wild, over the entire balcony, except for the tips of the balcony. It quivered at the thought, but merely stirred. It decided to be stubborn. I then sent it a surge of energy before drawing it back, trying to bait it. It suddenly drew to me like a magnet. 

A stem of it reached down and touched me lightly on the shoulder. I sent it the mental image again (ivy is a rather dull plant compared to other crawling vines) and it immediately took a compromise. My energy for its rapid growth. I agreed. 

It began immediately, faster than I thought possible. The branch consumed the entire patch of the cave, thorns growing large and thick. I could feel my energy flowing like a stream of water, pouring into the capillaries, veins of the plant, filling it to overflowing. One of the men didn't see the rapid growth in time, for I heard an ear-piercing scream, the kind of scream that not only reaches your ears but digs itself into your very soul. A thorn had pierced this man's body. I am sure that he was dead before he could see what hit him. 

The vine kept growing for awhile so that it was thick enough to rival a fortress of a castle. I could hear the war cries of the men trapped in the inside of the cave, but slowly, as the vine grew thicker, their cries became more muffled. 

The sweat was beading on my forehead now. It was becoming painful now. 

"Just a bit more. . . further," I said through gritted teeth before forcing my last bit of energy into the vine. 

Suddenly, I felt a cool hand on mine, a surge of energy suddenly bursting from my skin into my veins like white-hot metallic liquid. I felt something like a honey thread flawlessly intertwining through my green energy, making me stronger, making the vine stronger. Peering through my eyes, I saw that the vine was weaving itself into an intricate pattern, causing any kind of attacker the assurance of a pricker or two by the massive thorns. 

My head was spinning. I could feel the blood rushing from my head, could feel the warmth of black unconsciousness flooding into my brain. I stumbled, and the plant hesitated. 

Suddenly, something that I hadn't heard in forever rang through my head. _Briar, pull back now. I will take care of everything else._

It was Sandry, but softer, quieter than I had ever head her before. Something in her voice caused me both alarm and comfort. 

I was still trying to get over the fact that she was alive. Hearing her voice in my being was whole other set of hurdles. 

Slumping against the stone wall, I felt the tension pound in my skull. Groaning, I managed a peek out of my left eye. Sandry was still standing up, her eyes set purposefully ahead of me, concentration etched on her features. 

The sun was setting now, sending iridescent colors of lavender and flurescant orange scattered about her face. Her hair was down, instead of piled in braids on the top of her head. She looked so mythical right then, I managed to stare at her for a long while, without noticing what I was doing. However, after what seemed like forever, she turned to look at me. 

I could never, to this day, remember a time what her eyes looked more lavender and intense than in that one moment. 

We held gazes for awhile before I breathed, "You have to tell me, Sandry. Tell me everything." 

Something in her chin trembled before she tore her stare from my eyes, looking off to the horizon. Then, heaving in a large breath of air, she made her way over to me and sat next to me. 

Sandry was very silent for a long while, looking off into the shockingly orange clouds, before she started. "Two hundred years ago, Briar, the ancient realm was abolished." She stopped here to pause, her lips pursed. Something liquid was gathering in her eyes. "I thought it had died. Was sure of it. But now I know that it isn't, and it took losing Tris to figure that out."   
  
I stared at the half of her face for a second, digesting what she said before blinking. Ancient Realm? Tris, lost? There were too many questions floating aimlessly in my brain. Therefore, I managed to gurgle, "Um. . ." 

Sandry looked at me, arching an eyebrow. Her eyes were watery but I could see her lips were lifted in a crease of amusement. 

I suddenly felt extremely intelligent at my obviously educated answer. Wincing at my own actions, I started again, "A few questions, Duchess. First off, ancient realm?" 

She seem to think this one over, chewing the inside of her cheek. Then, slowly, "The Blaze of Gabriella, Briar. The ancient absolutism government that ruled only two hundred years ago. You must understand that The Blaze has been around for thousands of years, but has only been abolished recently in history, really." She wasn't looking at me while she said this, but simply blanking in the sky, as if she was reading it off a invisible sheet of paper. "The Blaze consisted of an organization of priests and priestesses, who ruled fiefs of land, given to them by Her Gabriella." 

I interjected at this point, even though I was in a daze. "Her Gabriella?" 

Sandry looked at me side ways. "The absolute ruler of the day. Her Gabriella was the demi-goddess sent to earth by the goddess Lerial to rule the lands. Her Gabriella was always right, almost just. Even when she sent thousands to their death because they opposed her. Men, woman, children; it didn't matter." There was a sneer on her lips now, like a stirring anger in the pit of her stomach had risen to show presence on her face. 

My mouth was slightly agape at this point. I simply stared dumbly at Sandry, who caught my stare and sighed. 

"Yes I know. You're going to ask how Her Gabriella got overthrown and what this has to do with Tris. Right?" She was making his sound tiresome.   
I merely squeaked my answer. 

"There was man named Sanders of Lucania. He changed everything. There was the theory among the priests and priestesses that magic was a learned thing and that is was only given to priests and priestesses that prayed and dedicated their lives to the goddess Lerial. Sanders disagreed. He said that magic came naturally, a person was born with it, and it could not be learned. The priests and priestesses didn't like this, and they had many people killed. Sanders killed many priests and priestesses in order to accomplish his goal of establishing a new order. Sanders won by the bitter sacrifice of someone he loved dearly. And this is what he accomplished. The noble system, so much better." Sandry stopped here with a hint of bitterness in her voice. 

But I was hardly looking at her, even though my gaze was piercing into the side of her face. I was still trying to fully understand what she was telling me. There had been an ancient order, in which people were killed mercilessly, were magic was restricted, and were there was a cruel queen, or some kind of demi-goddess-shit of the sorts. 

I blinked. "Why don't I know about this?" 

Sandry shook her head sorrowfully. "The nobles are stupid, that's why. It's been a story passed through the noble lines for generations through a book called 'Blaze and Force'. It's only taught to nobles supposedly to protect the 'common people.'" 

I blinked again. "What about Tris?" 

"She's the tiend." 

Suddenly blinking about of my faze, I glared at Sandry, suddenly feeling very angry. There was an entire history that I had never heard, but was supposedly involved in, there was Tris missing, I hadn't the foggiest whether Daja was alive or not, and Sandry was well. . . frustrating me in too many ways to count. 

"Oh right, the tiend," I replied sarcastically, rolling me eyes, "forgot about that one. Oh wait, I _wouldn't_ know about it since I'm too stupid to ingest information about an ANCIENT CULT THAT ONCE RULED THIS WORLD!" My voice rose during the interval of my speech so that my words echoed off the stony cliffs. 

Sandry hardly grimaced at my tone though. Instead, she turned and faced me, looking me deeply in the eyes. Something was so painfully beautiful in her face, that it made me want to swallow all my words and then puke them up. Tears swam in her eyes before she said, shaking, "The Tiend in the human sacrifice that they perform every twelve years, Briar. They do it to appease Lirial." 

I watched in dumb amazement as a tear cascaded down her cheek, and I simply swallowed thickly. The tiend was human sacrifice. 

Tris was their human sacrifice. 

Suddenly a current of panic shook through my body, and I ran a nervous hand through my hair. "No," I said quickly before looking at Sandry, who was trying to swallow her sobs, "No, that can't be. . ." 

"They use it also to bring the Her Gabriella a child. They usually want a noble male, head-strong, handsome, healthy. This male will," she gulped awkwardly, "mate with Lirial and their child will impregnate Her Gabriella, giving The Blaze a new heir to the throne." 

I heard all this as if I was underwater. I was pacing now, listening to Sandry as if she was a hundred miles away. Thoughts were churning in my head mercilessly. I looked at my feet, at my hands, at my sword. . . 

Stopping, I stared intently at my sword before asking slowly, "Sandry, does this book that the nobles read. . . " 

"Blaze and Force," Sandry interjected, but I carelessly went onward. 

". . .Right, 'Blaze and Force', does it say anything about this cult being finally overthrown eventually?" 

There was a period of thoughtful silence. Finally, Sandry said, "Yes." 

"What does it say?" I stared at her underneath my hair, which was always in my eyes. 

Sandry was sitting meekly against the stone wall. Her hair was blowing slightly in the breeze that rose from the ocean crashing below. Her face was still glowing in the fluorescent sunset, her eyes glowing. We stared at each other for a long while, something like a silent argument between us. Sandry didn't want to tell me. I wanted her to. 

I won eventually. She looked me straight in the eye before saying in a sing-song voice:   
  
_"Dreams, though dreams they not be:_   
_ He will come with sword and iron fist,_   
_To set his only Lady Love home and free,_   
_ making through the cliff and mist._   
_He shall be called by the rose thorn,_   
_ handsome, courageous, and brave,_   
_and between two loves he will be torn,_   
_ but he will conquer by the grave."_

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks. I reeled back from shock, and she suddenly realized what she had done. 

She quickly got up from her feet and was holding my arm, shaking it profusely, "This is not your destiny, Briar." She was shaking now, suddenly looking very anxious. She knew what was in my mind. Looking up at me, she stuttered, "There has to another way." 

I looked down at her, her pale thin figure staring down at me. Her eyes were brimming with tears. "Would they accept a young headstrong male if it was presented to them in exchange for Tris?" 

Sandry simply whimpered before saying, "Briar, this isn't what you were made for. Listen to me. . . _dammit_," her voice stuttered on this forbidden word, her body shaking now. 

I finally stared at Sandry. I really stared this time. Her eyes were watery and brimming with tears; no, she was crying now, hot tears pouring now her pale cheeks. Her body was frail, skinnier than ever, and her nose was small and rounded, instead of hooked a proud like so many other noble's. She wasn't what I had always thought I wanted. 

But her hair was soft and down, and I suddenly had an incredible urge to touch it. 

And I did. 

Reaching out, I touched her face softly, with the back of my hand, feeling her smooth skin glide gracefully over my touch. She suddenly stopped her desperate pleading for a second, looking at me with confused eyes. 

She blinked at me, before whispering, barely audible, "Briar?" 

I knew that now I could pull away and chuckle awkwardly. Could pretend that nothing could happen. I knew that I could choose another path now. I could choose to wait for Daja to come with help, kill this Her Bitch-ess, get Tris and keep everything the same. 

I had the chance to tip-toe back over the line undrawn, the "comfortable area." 

But I couldn't take it anymore. I had spent too much energy denying it, too much time shaking my head and blaming it on a "typical male attitude". I was, quite frankly, sick of myself. I was sick of telling myself that I was a stupid idiot everytime I felt the tiniest bit of an attraction to Sandry. I was tired of chuckling awkwardly when the intensity in our gazes crossed something that was definitely not platonic. I was sick of denying to myself that I could fall in love my best friend, a friend I had always told myself was my "foster sister". 

Oh yes, five points if you could say it convincingly, ten points in you could say it so convincingly, you believed it yourself. 

"What do you think I should do?" I asked, as I ran my calloused finger through her silky hair. I watched her, a bit of amusement in my eyes, and yet I asked it with all seriousness. 

Sandry was simply looking at me as if she was waking up for the first time. She made a somewhat pitiful gurgling noise in her throat. 

Then, giving her a smirk, I said quietly, as if their might be some eavesdroppers, "I'm thinking I should kiss you now." 

Blinking, I could tell Sandry wanted to get her stab in. She tried a watery smirk before she managed, "I think that might be a good--" 

I cut her off here, pressing my lips hard against hers. Something like a electric current from my lips to the middle of my abdomen. She tasted something like milk and honey, the stuff that she had poured so eagerly into my oatmeal the first breakfast we ate together. Lightning prickled on my skin, cool and white-hot at the same time. 

Her lips were soft like I imagined they would be, and even though I'm sure I bruised them already, I pressed harder, and I heard her groan quietly. 

I had kissed other girls before. I felt the ripple that stirred within you, but that seemed pitiful and meaningless compared to this. 

In the kiss, I felt the meaning of mercy, the strange paranoid, the beauty, my absolute gravity within this kiss. 

As I heard the waves crash outside, I kissed her harder, running my hands through her hair. I kept telling myself that I stark mad. That I had for sure stepped over the line of sanity. 

But for once I didn't care. I felt liberated and free. 

My sword lay scattered on the ground, my name still glowing. I ignored it for now though. What tomorrow brought, it would bring. 

Right now, it was me, Sandry, and the waves below. 

____________________________________________________ 

_HULLO EVERYONE! I better not type in caps because everyone is already pissed off at me. Several months for an update isn't a nice thing to do, I know, and I apologize profusely. Blame my busy life and writer's block. The wonderful thing about this story is that it's almost completed. Well, sorta. Like three more chapters. WOOHOO!!!_

_Anyways, Sandry and Briar kissed. Finally. Good god, about high time. Don't you agree?_

_If you agree, it would be wonderful if you pressed a little button that says something along the lines of "review". I know you want to. Wink, wink, nudge, nudge. . ._


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